As Cenhuan drove the car away, a figure emerged from the corner, watching the retreating vehicle with a trace of bitterness in his eyes. Zhuo Xiangnan watched the car getting farther away, his eyes revealing a bit of reluctance, but more so bitterness. He finally understood that they could never be separated—given Xiang Qiao's madness for her, he had lost; no, in fact, he had lost her already, back when he had reunited with Lin Yao in London. It was just that he had never admitted it to himself.
Cenhuan drove the car swiftly, thinking of the person with slashed wrists in the back seat, she pressed hard on the gas pedal. Lin Yue gripped Zhuo Xiangqiao's wrist tightly, blood seeping out from the wound, staining his wrist bright red. She saw the wounds on his hands and couldn't help her eyes reddening with tears.
