The sound of footsteps came from behind.
Leather shoes stepped on the floor, creating a crisp noise that echoed in everyone's ears, each step landing as if on their hearts.
The barrel of Fu Yuhua's gun was still aimed at Jiang Ruan.
She turned her head, looking towards the sound.
The man stood at the door, bathed in moonlight. He was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, one hand casually in his pocket, the other hanging by his side, gripping a surgical knife with a cold gleam. His handsome face was calm and composed. He slowly lifted his dark eyelashes, revealing his indifferent and cold phoenix eyes. His golden-rimmed glasses hung on his chest. He was neat, untainted by the world.
He brought with him a gust of refreshing sandalwood scent.
He seemed almost unreal.
As if he'd stepped out of a painting.
Fu Yuhua was stunned.
Jiang Ruan looked in the man's direction. There was no change in her expression. His sudden arrival was unexpected.
