"——Who allowed you to mention him!"
The girl, who seemed naturally devoid of any emotions, first had her eyes redden with a great sadness when Ming Ge mentioned the name "Jia Zhao," and then she pointed fiercely at the door, "Who allowed you to bring him up? Get out!"
She looked like she had a splitting headache, her slender white fingers threading through her black long hair, as if collapsing, "Get out!"
Ming Ge didn't leave.
This knot in her heart was planted three years ago, festering, suppurating, rotting in the depths of her mind. On the surface, it seemed to have healed, like it no longer mattered, and they could maintain a polite and distant conversation when meeting again, but as soon as it touched that point, it still hurt.
Ming Ge watched Jiang Xing'er, who was emotionally intense and hysterical, as if she saw the her from three years ago—
"Jiang Xing'er, it wasn't me who called the police back then."
She spoke calmly, through clenched teeth, word for word.
