"Don't, don't joke around!" Even when Xia Yang took out the knife, Qi couldn't wrap his mind around it. Xia Yang had donated a school to the old district, was a well-known painter in the city, and many high-class people took pride in collecting his paintings. How could someone like that be a murderer?
"Why couldn't it be me?" Xia Yang's demeanor showed no murderous intent; his face retained that gentle smile.
"I swear I saw it; the killer was a monster!" Qi never doubted Xia Yang, nor did he believe that the gentle and weak-looking Xia Yang could be his opponent.
"Sometimes what the eyes see isn't necessarily the truth." Xia Yang swung his arm, and before Qi realized what happened, a blood line appeared on his neck; it didn't hurt, like a mosquito bite.
"Get some sleep, and when dawn comes, I'll wake you all up." Xia Yang carefully memorized Qi's every expression before gently closing Qi's eyes.
