Nanny Yun gasped, and Fu Dong, who hurried to light the lantern, dropped the fire starter in fright. The more she panicked, the more chaotic it became, and still, darkness prevailed.
In the pitch-black darkness, Zheng Nianru felt the warmth of breath rushing toward her. The man's alcohol breath made Zheng Nianru frown; in the next moment, that hand brushed her shoulder.
"I am unwilling—" The man's voice, devoid of the calm of the previous moment, sounded like a child who felt wronged and was eager for affirmation. The hand on Zheng Nianru's shoulder gradually increased its pressure, holding on to that tangible touch, until the warmth spread from his fingertips, reaching his heart which was already cold.
Zheng Nianru paused slightly, unable to comprehend the man's meaning, but she recognized the voice—Ju Nanyi. He was unwilling, but unwilling to do what?
Just as Zheng Nianru was about to speak,
the man murmured the same line again.
