Bo Yanching's figure swayed, and suddenly he seized her.
"Say that again."
"What's the point of repeating it? Eating back my words once is enough, why should I do it twice?"
Nan Jiaojiao shoved his hand away, "Isn't it better to part ways when we still look good? Must you force me to speak my mind, Bo Yanching, when did you become so low?"
She spoke too hastily, fearing she had pushed him too hard, and almost immediately regretted it as she looked up and hurriedly crashed into his pitch-black pupils.
Those eyes, unlike their usual calm, conveyed an instinctive dread, shaking as if trembling when he looked at her, even if anger was present, it was quickly shrouded by a layer of defeated gray.
Nan Jiaojiao's fingertips tensed.
It felt as if a large hand was grasping her heart, painfully constricting it.
"Yaen Chi!"
