Sheng Qianxia's lips still had traces of blood, swollen and reddened.
The pain he inflicted was still so vivid, yet, he had already tossed her aside and left.
No one stepped forward to help her up.
Gong Beiyao didn't even spare her a glance before he turned away without any sentiment and returned to the stage.
And all that had transpired between her and him was just a warm-up dance, unrelated to romance, love, or even who she was...
It was only because Qingxue had broken her leg and couldn't dance.
That was why she had to stand in as a substitute.
The female lead he needed, the person who should have danced with him, was never her, nor should it have been her.
Even if it was her, in his heart, she was no different from a puppet...
And that wild 'kiss' of his was nothing more than a means to take revenge on Ling Muye, proclaiming his victory.
It wasn't because he loved her, nor because he still had feelings for her, and not even because she was his someone...
