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"Sorry." An Daoqing looked at Li Xiaofei and apologized loudly.
"You came a bit late," Li Xiaofei spoke indifferently.
An Daoqing's gaze toward Li Xiaofei carried unwillingness, but even more fear.
"It was my fault," he said, raising his voice again.
There was no other way. He had to let everyone know that he had come to offer a humble apology, bearing thorns on his back.
Li Xiaofei looked at him, a trace of mockery appearing on his face. He pulled off the thorned branch from An Daoqing's back and, without hesitation, raised it high.
Pa! Pa! Pa!
Three crisp sounds echoed. Beads of blood splattered and flew. Three deeply sunken, bloody welts appeared on An Daoqing’s back. Yet, his expression did not change much.
This kind of physical pain meant nothing to him. What truly made him feel ashamed and humiliated was the disgrace he had to bear in spirit. To apologize with...
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