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Chapter 68 – Two Hundred Thousand Betrothal Gifts.
Sang Ye didn’t even wait for the elevator. He bolted up the stairs and into his room, throwing himself onto the bed and curling up in his blanket.
In the darkness of his little cocoon, his wide, glittering eyes darted around anxiously.
What should he do?
Just being a little closer to Talk already made his mind go haywire. If he actually went home with him, wouldn’t he be a nervous wreck from morning till night?
Could he avoid sleeping in the same room? Would Talk agree if he asked to sleep on the couch? Would Talk… pin him down on the bed? Kiss him…?
The more Sang Ye thought about it, the tighter he curled up, rubbing his face against the blanket.
He suddenly remembered the time right after the summer tournament ended. Talk had accompanied him back to his room and noticed the new set of women’s clothes. They had bickered, and somehow, they ended up tumbling onto this very bed.
Talk had landed on top of him. He had been so startled he didn’t dare to move, and Talk had gone silent for a long moment too.
It was as if a switch had flipped in his brain—details he hadn’t paid attention to before suddenly surfaced. His hand had been on Talk’s waist at the time, and he could clearly feel the tense, firm muscles beneath his palm.
So… had Talk already liked him back then? Even before his birthday?
No… That’s not it.
—“Why can’t you wear it?”
—“I already chose the most conservative length.”
Maybe it started even earlier. Maybe when Talk helped him pick out that outfit at the hotel…
A wave of heat rushed to Sang Ye’s face, but strangely, the chaotic emotions in his chest settled a little.
Still, the biggest issue was—would their parents notice something was off?
And more importantly…
What should he wear tomorrow?
Sang Ye suddenly jumped up and bounced over to his wardrobe. Pulling the doors open, he dove headfirst into the sea of clothes, rummaging through them frantically.
Even though Tan Mo had assured him that his family wouldn’t suspect anything and that this wasn’t a formal “meet the parents” situation, Sang Ye still didn’t want to leave a bad first impression on them.
He pulled out a British-style blazer and held it up against himself in front of the mirror.
No, too formal. Even if this wasn’t a meet-the-parents scenario, he’d definitely look like he was going to one.
He grabbed a vintage Hong Kong-style hoodie.
No, too casual—it made him seem unserious.
Then, he found a black dress shirt with rhinestones embedded in the collar.
“…”
Sang Ye stared at it for two seconds before putting it back.
Too unlucky of a color.
He continued searching, but nothing seemed right. Every outfit had some kind of issue.
Half an hour passed like this. Frustrated, Sang Ye ran his fingers through his hair, then slumped to the ground, clutching a pile of clothes.
Sometimes, a breakdown happens in just an instant.
Two seconds later—
Sang Ye sprang to his feet, yanked his suitcase out from the corner, and started throwing clothes into it haphazardly.
He couldn’t take it anymore!!!
—
The next day marked the start of a short holiday. The weather was clear and pleasant.
Tan Mo woke up earlier than usual. The first thing he did after getting out of bed was reach for his phone and send Sang Ye a message.
T.: [Are you awake?]
He waited for a while. No reply.
That meant Sang Ye was still sleeping.
Tan Mo changed his clothes and freshened up in the bathroom before picking up his phone to check for messages.
Still nothing.
Seeing that it was about time, he decided to head upstairs to wake Sang Ye.
Before leaving, he grabbed the bottle of cologne from his dresser and sprayed twice into the air in front of him.
—This was the secret to a man always maintaining a subtle, elusive deep-sea scent.
He then leaned slightly toward the mirror on the wall, smoothing his hair into place.
Tan Mo pulled open his door.
Plop.
Before he could even step outside, a soft sound reached his ears—something had slipped through the door crack and fallen onto the floor.
Tan Mo lowered his lashes, stood silently for two seconds, then bent down to pick up the card.
[Thank you for the invitation. You’re a good person. I got a ticket and went home. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Don’t worry about me. Happy National Day.]
His gaze flicked back and forth over the words “You’re a good person” and “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” reading them six times in total. His jawline tensed slightly as he clenched the card in his palm, crumpling it.
“Little liar…”
At that moment, the “little liar” in question was sound asleep at 12,000 meters in the air, wearing an eye mask.
The past two days of emotional turmoil had drained him completely—he was exhausted.
Last night, Sang Ye had paid five times the normal price to get a last-minute ticket home from a scalper. Before dawn, he had already wheeled his suitcase out and disappeared.
Spending a few days at Tan Mo’s house?
He wasn’t ready for that.
Physically or mentally.
—
On the first morning of the holiday, Fang Yuerong spent her time at home. She led a sheep from the back pen, slaughtered it, and cleaned out its organs. Without washing her hands, she then chopped up eight rabbit heads.
As the daughter of a butcher, she was skilled at this kind of work—quick, efficient, and meticulous.
She had planned to butcher two more geese, but a call from a friend invited her to a beauty salon. After some back-and-forth, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse and eventually agreed to go.
Before leaving, Fang Yuerong took off her apron and draped herself in a custom Chanel tweed coat. She instructed the cook to prepare dinner, asking her to stew a pot of lamb offal for the afternoon and store the rest.
The cook squinted with a smile. “Got it. Started preparing first thing this morning—waiting for the kid to come home on the fourth.”
By late afternoon, when Fang Yuerong returned, the rich, spicy aroma of lamb stew filled the air before she even stepped inside.
Entering the courtyard, she glanced up—and through the half-open kitchen door, she caught sight of a figure dressed in white.
Fang Yuerong removed her gloves as she craned her neck forward, slowly making her way over. As her view expanded past the doorframe, the scene inside became clearer.
She saw a figure standing at the stove with their back to the door—a head of white hair, an old white cotton shirt, and loose-fitting culottes. Holding a pair of chopsticks, the person was fishing pieces of lamb offal from a clay pot, slurping them up with a zzlurp zzlurp.
Fang Yuerong’s voice was filled with uncertainty: “Little pup?”
The boy turned around, his lips still glistening with bright orange chili oil, and greeted her, “Mom.”
A huge smile spread across Fang Yuerong’s face, her eyes glistening with tears. She didn’t even bother questioning why Sang Ye had come home three days earlier than expected. Instead, she tossed her silk-scarf-tied handbag onto the chopping board, grabbed his head, and planted a loud kiss on his forehead.
“Ahh! My little pup is home!”
A bright red lipstick mark was now stamped on the boy’s white bangs.
Sang Ye had arrived home around noon. The cramped economy-class seat had been unbearable, so after getting back, he skipped lunch, took a shower, changed into comfortable clothes, and immediately crashed onto his bed. It wasn’t until evening, when the aroma of lamb stew drifted upstairs, that he finally woke up and came downstairs.
Fang Yuerong examined him from head to toe and then back up again, marveling at his complexion. She pinched his fair, soft cheek. “Southern water and soil really do nourish people well.”
Sang Ye asked, “Where’s Dad?”
Fang Yuerong scoffed, “Off messing around again.”
Sang Ye glanced at the bubbling lamb stew in the clay pot. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet.” Fang Yuerong rolled up her sleeves and took a bowl from the sterilizer.
Then, without letting him lift a finger, she nudged him aside and told him to wait in the front room—she wouldn’t even let her son serve his own food.
—
When Tan Mo got home, neither his father nor his aunt was there.
By early evening, when dinner was about to be served, a variety of rich, fragrant dishes were placed on the dining table. It was then that Tan Zhengfeng finally returned.
Upon entering, he glanced at Tan Mo and asked, “Where is he?”
Tan Mo leaned against the wall, raising a hand to scratch his sharp nose bridge. “He went home.”
Tan Zhengfeng changed his shoes, let out a cold, ambiguous chuckle, and walked inside.
Tan Mo lowered his head, shoving both hands into his pockets.
“Well, serves you right,” Tan Zhengfeng remarked coolly, carrying his bag into the house. “You were in such a hurry, and now he’s run away.”
“……”
Tan Mo remained silent, saying nothing. With no words left to offer, he simply turned around and followed behind.
—
After dinner, the National Day Gala began airing on various TV channels.
But young people these days didn’t care much for those shows. Instead, they preferred celebrating by snatching up red envelopes in group chats.
With the sound of the TV playing in the background, Sang Ye sat alone on the porch, hunched over his phone. Two large white geese, left uncooped, wandered back and forth beside him.
Technically, he could’ve just stayed in the living room and played on his phone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it held a secret. Taking it out in front of his parents made him anxious—like his secret might be exposed.
The WLG team’s group chat was buzzing with activity. The coach and Miao Sen had already sent out warm-up red envelopes.
Yu Ni Huanxi: [[Red Envelope]]
Sang Ye claimed one.
Opening it up…
1.72 yuan.
Looking through the list of amounts others had received, it seemed like everyone’s share was pretty small.
3.1415926: [What the hell?! There are so many of us, and you only put in 50 yuan? I saw you snagging over a thousand just now from the coach and Miao Sen’s envelopes—classic you, Yu Gonggong. 👍]
Yu Ni Huanxi: [Why should a humble worker make life harder for another humble worker? We should be asking the richest person in the group to send a red envelope. @T.]
Sang Ye’s grip on his phone tightened at the sight of that ID.
His legs were starting to go numb from squatting, so he shifted into a seated position on the steps, wrapping his arms around his knees.
Ever since waking up from his nap that afternoon, he’d been struggling with whether or not to message Tan Mo and explain why he had suddenly changed plans and gone home.
After all, he had bailed on him at the last minute. Leaving nothing but a single card wedged in the door was hardly sincere.
But even being back in the comfort of his own home didn’t give him the courage to reach out.
One moment, he worried that Tan Mo might still be angry and unwilling to talk to him—after all, he’d only sent that [Awake yet?] message in the morning and nothing else since.
The next moment, he worried that Tan Mo would ask if he had made up his mind yet. And if he still didn’t have an answer… would Tan Mo lose patience? Would he get even angrier?
What scared him most, though…
Was Tan Mo’s indifference.
Sang Ye hesitated, dragging things out until now. Even when red envelopes started popping up in the group chat, he kept telling himself to wait a little longer—to observe Tan Mo’s tone while chatting with the others before finding a chance to message him privately.
But from the moment the conversation started until now, Tan Mo hadn’t said a single word. His name wasn’t even on the list of people who had claimed red envelopes.
Maybe he was busy. Or maybe… he just wasn’t checking his messages.
Sang Ye bit his lower lip.
When something feels intimidating, if you don’t deal with it immediately, the longer you drag it out, the harder it becomes to act. Eventually, you might just give up altogether—Forget it. Whatever.
And just then—
After everyone in the group had been calling for him nonstop, a string of messages finally appeared.
—Tan Mo had sent twenty red envelopes all at once.
Sang Ye stared at his profile picture in a daze for two seconds before snapping out of it and clicking on the link.
The first one—
[Red envelope claimed~]
Only Xiao Pai and Yu Haotian had managed to grab anything, with a total of 200 yuan between them.
Each red envelope had a maximum of 200 yuan.
Sang Ye backed out and clicked on the second one.
[Red envelope claimed~]
“……”
After four failed attempts, Sang Ye impatiently scrolled all the way to the bottom and tapped the very last link.
【Red envelope claimed~】
“…………”
Are these people serious?
When competing with pro players in anything requiring speed, never let your guard down.
Sang Ye didn’t manage to snatch a single red envelope from Tan Mo. Frustrated, he ruffled his hair.
The others, on the other hand, were more than satisfied.
3.1415926: [Thank you, boss! ]
NotChangingMyNameUntilILose10kg: [Thank you, boss.jpg]
YuNiHuanXi: [Boss is so generous!]
…
…
Everyone was expressing their gratitude.
Sang Ye followed suit and sent a message.
[Thanks, boss.]
But Tan Mo didn’t reply.
Maybe he was busy…
Sang Ye lowered his gaze, put away his phone, and got up to go inside.
He sat with his parents for a while, watching TV, but he couldn’t muster any interest in the singing and dancing performances. After a bit, he excused himself, saying he was going to his room to play games.
“Son,” Sang Huaxin said, looking at him with concern, motioning for him to sit back down. “You already play games all the time for work. Now that you’re home, why don’t you take a break?”
“…………”
Sang Ye still went back to his room.
Even though playing games was part of a pro player’s job, at the end of the day, they were still gaming addicts—playing for work didn’t mean they wouldn’t want to play for fun.
After logging into his account, Sang Ye decided to start a livestream.
His viewer count shot up quickly.
[“Fu Gui, where are you? Not at the team base?”]
[“Why are you streaming today? Didn’t see any announcement.”]
[“Someone send this link to Tan Shen, who can’t even be bothered to stream once a month. Look how dedicated and hardworking his “wife” is.”]
While clearing out some Steam friend requests, Sang Ye glanced at the chat. “I’m at home. Don’t like watching the holiday gala, so I figured I’d get online for a few games… Stop making a fuss.”
[“Fu Gui, you look a little tired.”]
[“You seem kinda down.”]
Sang Ye didn’t deny it. “Woke up early for my flight today—pretty exhausted.”
[“Guys, how about we go watch Nuo Nuo’s stream instead? She’s duo-queuing with her boyfriend, laughing so sweetly. She’s got the looks, the attitude—why waste time watching a moody streamer here?”]
There were always trolls trying to stir things up. Normally, Sang Ye wouldn’t bother responding, but today, he was in a bad mood. Seeing the comment, he clapped back immediately: “How am I giving you a bad attitude? I was born with this face—do I owe you something? Go watch whoever you want, no one’s stopping you.”
Nuo Nuo had publicly announced her relationship over two weeks ago. Xiao Pai had been heartbroken for a night, but thankfully, his ability to self-heal was strong—plus, he had plenty of “big sisters” to comfort him.
Later on, whenever Xiao Pai had free time, he would still drop by Nuo Nuo’s stream and send her virtual gifts. Sang Ye had noticed it a few times—compared to before, Nuo Nuo really did smile a lot more now, and it was a very sweet kind of smile.
Sang Ye glanced again at the chat message comparing him to Nuonuo. He pursed his lips unhappily and muttered, “She has a boyfriend to play games with, I don’t. And they blame me for not being sweet? What kind of bull—”
[“Hahahahahaha! Song Bao’s commentary is spot-on! But why does it sound like he’s a little bitter?”]
[“The resentment of a single dog, hhhhhhh…”]
[“You’re sweet too, baby! When Tan Shen is around, you’re the sweetest of all—a little sugar bean!”]
Sang Ye’s face heated up instantly. He had just been making an offhand comment—he didn’t mean anything by it.
“Can you guys stop bringing up Talk all the time? He’s busy—”
Before he could finish, the loud sound effect of a Super Battleship drowned out his voice.
A system notification popped up:
[Distinguished Platinum User wlg-Talk has sent you 20 Super Battleships.]
“……”
Afraid he had seen wrong, Sang Ye leaned closer to the screen and checked the username twice. He was dazed for a moment, and then his face was overtaken by a deep blush.
[“????? He’s busy? Busy doing what? Watching his wife’s stream and sending gifts?”]
[“He just dropped 200,000?! According to the local wedding custom of an 88,000 betrothal gift, Tan Shen could marry Song twice!”]
Seeing Tan Mo appear in his stream, all the bottled-up emotions Sang Ye had been holding onto all afternoon finally found an outlet. He had so much he wanted to say, but he was afraid Tan Mo would leave after sending the gifts, so he hurriedly asked, “What are you doing here?”
[“Fu Gui, what are you waiting for?! Get Tan Shen on voice chat!”]
Sang Ye didn’t even bother to ask whether Tan Mo was free to talk—he immediately hit the voice call button in the stream.
Thankfully, the request was accepted.
“Hey?”
A deep, lazy voice rang out.
Hearing that Tan Mo’s tone was the same as usual—at least not cold and distant, as he had feared—Sang Ye’s heart felt a little lighter. He adjusted his headset, and a bright gleam flickered in his dark eyes. “Why did you send me so many gifts?”
Tan Mo replied, “Didn’t you miss out on the red envelopes in the group chat earlier?”
Sang Ye was momentarily stunned.
Tan Mo hadn’t sent any more messages after dropping the red envelopes earlier, but somehow, he still knew that Sang Ye hadn’t managed to grab a single one.
Did that mean Talk had also opened each red envelope one by one, searching for his name?
Sang Ye lowered his gaze, covering his burning face with both hands, completely at a loss.
Talk had already given him so much attention, so why was he still feeling so unsettled?
Sang Ye scrunched his nose slightly, inwardly scolding himself.
You’re being ridiculous.
At that moment, Tan Mo asked, “Why are you blushing?”
“……”
Sang Ye lifted his eyes to the camera, only then remembering that Tan Mo could see him through the livestream.
But he couldn’t see Tan Mo.
Aaaaaaah! Not fair! Not fair!
Frantically, Sang Ye reached for his mouse, pouting, “I’m not streaming anymore! I’m ending it! I’ll call you on my phone instead!”
The fans panicked. [“No! They couldn’t miss out on this cute couple’s phone call! Absolutely not!!!”]
But before the chat could flood with wails of protest, Tan Mo spoke.
“Don’t turn it off.”
Sang Ye’s fingers hovered just above the red end stream button.
Tan Mo’s voice softened, as if coaxing him.
“Let me see you.”
[“Aaaaaahhhhhh! I can’t take this! Tan Shen is killing me! He’s flirting like crazy with Song Bao again!”]
[“Funny how Song doesn’t look tired at all now :)”]
Sang Ye furrowed his brows in frustration, feeling like every pore on his face was radiating heat. In the end, he moved the mouse away from the close button.
Just then, a flashy golden message slowly scrolled across the screen.
Distinguished Platinum User WLGPi: [“Brother, what’s the deal? You give our entire group twenty red envelopes with 200 each, but for Bai Mao, you drop twenty battleships worth 10,000 each? A team doesn’t suffer from scarcity, it suffers from inequality…”]
Xiao Pai had probably gone over to Nuo Nuo’s stream to torment himself again, only to see the viral news about Tan Mo’s lavish gift drop. Following the trail, he made his way here.
The comments continued to roll in, but Sang Ye simply pressed on that giant ID and blocked him.
Suddenly cut off from the stream, Xiao Pai: “???”
Sang Ye finally managed to steady his emotions and repeated his question from earlier, “Why are you here?”
Surely, he hadn’t logged in just to send him red envelopes.
Tan Mo replied, “I heard someone complaining.”
Sang Ye was confused. “What?”
Tan Mo’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “Saying that other people have boyfriends to game with, but they don’t.”
The chat erupted with a collective [“Awooo!”] and went wild again.
Sang Ye’s face flushed instantly. He straightened his posture and stammered in defense, hands flailing awkwardly, “I didn’t! I… I was just responding to that comment… That’s not what I meant!”
On Tan Mo’s side, there was the sound of footsteps crossing the floor, followed by the creak of a chair.
He had changed positions.
“What do you mean, you don’t have a boyfriend to play with?” Tan Mo’s tone was lazy, his last syllable dragging out suggestively. “Hmm?”
“……”
Sang Ye’s heart pounded wildly, his hands pressing against his burning cheeks. He glanced at the number in the top right corner—his viewers were about to surpass eight million. He couldn’t just shut off the stream, which only made his embarrassment worse.
His dark eyes glared helplessly at the screen, utterly speechless, on the verge of being bullied into tears.
And Tan Mo was still at it. “You don’t want the boyfriend I’m offering you.”
Sang Ye ran a slender, pale finger across his face. “Stop… Stop talking.”
Tan Mo said, “I’ll play with you. Hold on, let me turn on my computer.”
The next thing that came through was the sound of a PC booting up.
…
After that, Sang Ye and Tan Mo played duo matches together in a casual game mode.
Gaming with Tan Mo still felt the same as before. As Sang Ye gradually regained his usual rhythm, the tension from the past two days faded.
By the third match, the zone had centered around P City. The two of them camped inside a house, waiting for passing squads.
Sang Ye wasn’t fully focused while aiming. He kept glancing at Tan Mo in the corner of his screen, hesitated for a long time, then finally tested the waters, saying, “I woke up really early this morning… so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Tan Mo gave a neutral “Mhm,” his tone unreadable.
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, held his breath, and peered down the road through his scope. “When you texted me, I was still on the plane. I saw it later… but at the time, I just… thought I should say something, yet I never replied…”
The more guilty he felt, the quieter his voice became.
Tan Mo’s response was brief. “I didn’t blame you.”
That only made Sang Ye feel worse. His lashes drooped, and even his crosshair unconsciously lowered.
“Talk.”
“Mhm?”
“I’m not ready yet.”
Tan Mo stared at the computer screen, but his gaze was unfocused.
He could tell.
These past two days, he had been making Sang Ye feel troubled.
The chat was flooded with [“?”], everyone asking what on earth these two were talking about. They were completely lost.
Right at that moment, multiple footsteps echoed from downstairs.
Sang Ye snapped back to his senses and quickly raised his gun, only to realize—frustratingly—that a car had pulled up by the road.
He hadn’t been paying attention and let the enemy slip into the building.
But in reality, neither of them had been focusing on the game.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a big problem.
As soon as the enemies reached the second floor and turned towards the room, Sang Ye met one head-on and took them down with two shotgun blasts.
The second opponent rushed in immediately after. Tan Mo, waiting by the wall, caught them from the side.
And just like that, two fresh loot crates appeared on the floor.
Tan Mo walked up to loot the supplies, his tone calm. “If you feel like things are too overwhelming, then take a step back. I understand, and I’ll know what to do. Just go at your own pace.”
The chat: [“Maybe they’re discussing some kind of new strategy?”]
Sang Ye furrowed his brows. “Then what about you…?”
“I’m fine,” Tan Mo interrupted, his voice low. “Don’t worry about me. Just know that if you feel pressured, I won’t be comfortable either.”
Sang Ye’s face turned red. He lowered his gaze, overcome with shame.
Tan Mo had actually sensed all of Sang Ye’s avoidance before.
Lifting his gaze slightly, Tan Mo resumed his usual tone—perhaps even more relaxed than before. “Come here. Why are you just standing there like an idi*t?”
Sang Ye steadied his emotions, walked over to loot the supplies, and suddenly had a mischievous idea. He decided to be a little troublemaker and took all the bullets.
“Hmph!”
It wasn’t really a big deal. Sang Ye was just looking for something to fuss about, letting his inner drama queen take over.
“You called me an idi*t, so I’m not leaving a single bullet for you.”
“Oh, is that so?” Tan Mo calmly attached his weapon accessories and said, “Just make sure to point your gun at the enemy. You don’t need to leave anything for me—your little tantrum is already enough to kill me.”
[“AHHHHHHHHHHHH——!!!”]
If chat required people to actually scream in real life to send messages, then every single fan that night would have ended up with a sore throat.
…
By the time Sang Ye walked downstairs, holding onto the railing for support, his legs were weak.
He knew it—Tan Mo had been acting more and more outrageous ever since confessing his feelings.
It was just too intoxicating.
Sang Ye went to the kitchen to pour himself some water, only to notice that the living room TV was still on, but his parents were nowhere in sight. Outside, the courtyard lights were on, and a rhythmic thud! thud! thud! echoed through the night.
He walked to the door and saw his dad crouching on the porch, smoking a cigarette while scrolling through his phone.
Meanwhile, his mom stood in the courtyard, facing a large wooden chopping board against the wall.
With each swift motion of her knife—up, down, up, down…
At her feet lay a limp goose with its neck snapped.
There was probably another one on the chopping board.
Sang Ye: “…………”
Sang Huaxin glanced back at him through the haze of white smoke, squinting slightly, then gestured beside him. “Son, come squat down.”
Sang Ye obediently crouched beside him. “What are we doing?”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Sang Huaxin flipped his phone around and tapped the screen. “Why is everyone saying this young man spent two hundred thousand on a bride price to marry you?”
“……”
Sang Ye looked at the screen and saw a screenshot. Not only did it show the notification of Tan Mo sending twenty warships, but it also contained the ridiculous comments from his unreliable fake fans.
—— […Based on our local custom of an 88,000 bride price, Tan Shen could marry Song twice over.]
Sang Ye shot up from his squat, completely flustered. His words tumbled out in a rush, completely unrelated to each other.
“No, no, they’re just talking nonsense! He’s my team captain! He was watching my stream and saw that I didn’t get a red envelope, so he sent me gifts instead! It’s just… just that captain you said looked good last time! He’s always been nice to me, always looking after me! There’s really nothing between us! It’s just that things have been a little weird lately, I… I… I, he…”
The more Sang Ye spoke, the redder his face became. His eyes grew misty with frustration.
In the end, he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling heavily. With his head lowered, he finally admitted in one go:
“Dad, I like him.”
“……”
Sang Huaxin stared at him, looking a bit dazed. The cigarette ash at the tip of his smoke crumbled and fell.
In the courtyard, the sound of chopping abruptly stopped.
Under the moonlight, Fang Yuerong straightened up, gripping a blood-stained kitchen knife in her hand, silent.
Sang Ye swallowed hard.
“…………”