Her?
Sheng Miao?
Luo Qiangwei, enduring the dizziness, propped herself up and smiled disdainfully, "I think you really got the short end of the stick too. Sheng Miao, the little white flower, disappears every other day; aren't you worried that your constant rage will make you age faster?"
Mo Shiche's jaw tightened, his gaze cold and forbidding, "Luo Qiangwei, I'll ask you again, where did you take her,"
His voice had barely faded
when suddenly a large hand choked her neck.
She was thrown back heavily into the sofa.
For a moment, Luo Qiangwei felt he might actually be trying to strangle her.
Though not to the point of being exaggerated, and his strength didn't suffocate her, the very act of choking implied brutal hostility.
Her heart seized up sharply.