When the man gripped Sian's hand tightly, Sian frowned and said coldly, "He Jinyun, let go. Now."
But this time, the obedient little pup didn't listen. Instead, he tightened his hold on Sian's hand even more.
A familiar sense of fear and despair stirred within Sian at the man's touch.
"Why, He Jinyun? Why are you hiding your face? Don't tell me..."
"Remove your hand now, or else—"
Sian had his suspicions, but he prayed they weren't true.
They mustn't be true.
If they were, he didn't know how he was supposed to react.
"Gege, please," He Jinyun pleaded.
Even with the mask covering his face, the desperate expression on the man's face was painfully clear.
Yet Sian did not respond; instead, he gripped the mask tighter. His heart was pounding wildly, and a deep, suffocating fear—both familiar and foreign—coiled around his neck like a venomous snake, strangling him.
Sian let out a long sigh to ease the tension in his chest, then tried to smile gently.
