Qi Yunqian tightly gripped the wrist of the woman before him, staring at her with deathlike intensity, his thin lips pressed firmly together, his eyes and brows filled with excitement and restraint.
He had only glanced over here inadvertently.
And he saw a woman with a silhouette that resembled Song Shiwei to an extreme degree.
Qi Yunqian couldn't help himself; he stepped forward and grabbed her hand.
The touch was exactly as he remembered it.
Qi Yunqian's eyes reddened slightly, his voice hoarse and stubborn as he asked her again, "Is it you, Shiwei? You're not dead, are you?"
Song Shiwei, hearing this voice, couldn't help but roll her eyes.
She turned around, forcefully pulling her hand back, and stepped to the side, her voice calm and indifferent, "Sir, you have the wrong person."
In just a few short months, the man before her had grown much thinner, his appearance barely changed, but his aura had become colder, even more aloof and unapproachable.
