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“Stop with the dead look on your face. If you really want to die, I’ll help you.”
A thin bleeding cut was left on Gao Yang’s neck by the cold blade. He slowly looked up, the corners of his eyes slightly red, looking helpless and lost.
Qing Ling paused. She had never seen Gao Yang like this.
A few seconds later, she pulled her Tang Dao back with a swoosh, lifting the foot pinning Gao Yang down and sitting down cross-legged beside him.
Qing Ling wordlessly scowled.
The ocean wind late at night poured through the floor-to-ceiling window, making the hangers with their clothes clack. Neither of them said anything.
A long time passed. Gao Yang finally opened his mouth, and in the dark, he spoke quietly, “I have a question for you, Qing Ling.”
“Ask,” Qing Ling said irritatedly.
“If one day, you find...
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