Mu Anran suddenly covered her face, no longer daring to see Yu Lingqian's reaction.
Silence, the silence of death.
Yu Lingqian never spoke, and as Mu Anran covered her face, unable to see his expression, she could feel a bone-chilling coldness ravaging the room.
Unable to bear it anymore, she finally lowered her hands, her face pale as she looked up.
When she did, she saw Yu Lingqian looking at her.
At that moment, the warm light from the hallway spilled in, with Yu Lingqian standing against the light.
His face hid in the shadows, but his handsome eyes seemed to have sunk into the Cold Pond.
So deep, and so cold.
Mu Anran's heart suddenly jerked upward. She opened her mouth as if trying to explain.
But before she could utter a word, a sudden "snap" echoed through the air.
That sound was like a giant hand, tightly seizing Mu Anran's heart.
The small medicine bottle was twisted and deformed in Yu Lingqian's palm, and Mu Anran's face lost the last trace of color.
