Rong Zifeng was slightly taken aback; he knew he would not be able. When it came to advising others, he had plenty of grand principles, but when it came to himself, he discovered he simply couldn't accept it.
"You can go out now, I want to be alone for a while," Mo Siluo said, craving a cigarette. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and lit it up.
Rong Zifeng reached out and plucked a hair from Mo Siluo's head.
"What are you doing?" Mo Siluo frowned and glared at Rong Zifeng.
"I think, to avoid regret, it's safest to have it verified," Rong Zifeng said, holding up a few strands of hair, then casually picked up the small transparent bag with Wen Wan's hair from the table and turned to leave.
Mo Siluo did not stop him, perhaps in his subconscious, hoping for a miracle, but he knew that the likelihood was slim, maybe even less than one in ten thousand.
