Ling Chuan just pulled her along, out of the airport, threw her luggage into the car's trunk, his other hand never releasing the woman behind him.
Actually, she knew that even if she left secretly like this, as long as he didn't allow it, in the end, she wouldn't be able to leave.
Letting him pull her into his car, he started the engine, still pressing her palm with one hand.
An Ziqing glanced at him and said, "Let go, I won't run; I also know I can't escape your grasp."
He looked at her, every time seeing her so calm, he was filled with resentment.
He didn't listen to her, still holding onto her.
Yet she tried to withdraw her hand.
"Don't move," he commanded hoarsely.
"I won't move, but please drive properly; I still want to live," she pointed ahead, at the intersection, a truck coming over.
Ling Chuan, startled, let go of An Ziqing's hand, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and turned it fiercely, his car narrowly brushed past the truck.
