Ji Tingyang's figure grew increasingly closer, and Wen Li clenched the hand by her side, growing more nervous under her quickening heartbeat.
Eyes met.
Wen Li's red lips parted slightly, whispering his name, "Ji Tingyang…"
However, Ji Tingyang seemed as if he hadn't heard her voice, his gaze indifferently sweeping over her, calm and unrippled.
His figure brushed past hers without any communication, as if they were strangers.
Wen Li's face turned deathly pale, frozen in place as if deeply struck, almost reflexively, she reached out and grabbed his clothes.
Ji Tingyang stopped in his tracks, his sharp brows furrowed with impatience, as he looked at her silently.
"Can, can I have a word with you alone?" Wen Li looked up at him, her face devoid of color and filled with unease.
"No need, whatever you have to say can be said here." Ji Tingyang replied with hands in his pockets, looking at her indifferently.
