Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Ming Jing stared at the dense rain and dark clouds outside the corridor window, as the cold wind blew into the narrow hallway.
The chill penetrated every nook and cranny, but the young man's body temperature felt scorching hot.
"Qu Feitai," Ming Jing called out lightly.
The young man held her tightly in his arms, like a drowning person clutching onto the last straw for survival.
"Why didn't you answer my calls?" His tone carried hints of complaint and grievances, as if Ming Jing had wronged him somehow.
His voice was so deceptive, and his acting skills were so good that it would make anyone else feel guilty.
However, the person he was facing was Ming Jing.
There would be no cheap sentimentality.
"Why were you looking for me?" Ming Jing's cold voice was chillier than the freezing wind, cooling the young man's burning heart in an instant.
"I... I saw the news about your accident, and I was worried about you."
