Having lost his most important tools as a scientist, his sight and his hands, was practically equivalent to a death sentence, inflicting even more pain.
Song Yan met Fu Chi's gaze, the corners of his mouth unchanged, and the light in his eyes fervent as if adoring something.
"Fu Chi," he laughed," Truthfully, you have more talent than me. Yet, it's a pity you pursue nothing, instead throwing yourself at a woman."
Fu Chi looked at him coldly, "At least I've lived like a person. Mr. Song, what have you left behind in the end? Honor? Achievements?"
He tugged lightly at the corner of his lips with a profound and cold expression, a trace of mockery flashing through his beautiful phoenix eyes. "These things, with the passage of time, will soon be submerged in the long river of history. Are you pursuing loneliness then?"
