Luo Qiangwei felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, her brows furrowing. Mo Shiche let out a low, cold laugh, "Does it hurt?" His bloodstained fingers clutched her chin, "Luo Qiangwei, it seems... you can feel pain after all."
He lifted her face.
The hint of red in her eyes shocked him.
Mo Shiche's body trembled, his gaze fixed on her eyes as his Adam's apple rolled violently, "Why are you crying."
"I'm not crying!" Luo Qiangwei turned her face away abruptly, her lower lip between her teeth, her voice hoarse, "I'm not crying, I have nothing to cry about."
"You are crying," his heavy breathing intensified, his left hand was a mutilated mess, but still, he stared at her incessantly, as if she mattered more than everything else, "Is it because you thought of me sleeping with another woman, so you cried, Luo Qiangwei... you can't bear to let me go."
