It was just a short distance, yet the girl's indifferent expression stretched it into a barrier as vast as mountains and seas.
The space became severely and eerily silent.
A few seconds later, Zhan Moxiao slowly lowered his arm, looked at the girl's face, leaned in to embrace her and asked gently, "Shall we eat first, alright?"
Although completely drained, Ou Lan mustered all her strength to dodge him, finally glaring at him directly, her gaze too sharp, "Zhan Moxiao, don't touch me!"
That sharpness stung Zhan Moxiao.
He remembered the painting she had drawn, it was a marriage certificate, she had written those vow-like words, but now, everything seemed as if sealed in dust.
He dared not get any closer to her, for with every inch he moved forward, she instinctively moved back an inch, her retreat filled with fear and hatred.
Fear was what remained from yesterday, hatred was continually growing.
