"...Qingqing."
Yu Yanshen hadn't realized his hand had been resting on her slender neck all along, controlling her breath.
He let go, noticing the pale delicate skin on the sides of her nape was now marked with faint red finger imprints. Her skin was fair, and it looked shockingly morbid.
Yao Qing drew a deep breath, perhaps truly sensing danger, and subconsciously moved back.
His impulse to touch the reddened wound momentarily froze mid-action.
His breath halted for a moment, and he clenched his palms.
"I'm sorry."
Yao Qing didn't speak, her eyes filled with densely tangled red veins, looking like a horrifying web.
She wiped the tears off her face with her hand, her face so taut it was nearly expressionless after the tears had dried in the wind.
She just stared stiffly at the man in front of her.
In a low voice, a very low voice, she asked, "Do you really think my dad is a disgrace, do you really look down on him?"
Yu Yanshen paused.
