Luo Xiaoqian wanted to stand up and flee, but her legs were so weak that she had no strength to do so; she simply couldn't stand up.
Her strength, her bravery, her stubbornness... all of it was absent when he wasn't around. In front of this man, she was still the same Luo Xiaoqian who would get flustered and prone to mistakes at the sight of him.
Leng Zimo walked over and stopped his steps on the other side of the shrubbery.
The two of them were so close, only separated by a shrub wall less than half a meter tall.
This was the closest he had been to her in five years.
Luo Xiaoqian crouched on the ground, not daring to move, let alone raise her face.
Leng Zimo looked down at her from above.
The woman in front of him was thin, and although he couldn't see her face, he could still tell she was very young. To judge a woman's age, you don't look at her face; you look at her neck.
