"Even if you're not afraid of death, what else are you afraid of?"
A raspy voice drifted softly into her ear, like a person walking on the edge of a cliff, carrying a sense of detached numbness and icy cold.
The wind atop the rooftop was fierce and unrelenting, and the voice quickly dissipated into its gusts.
Her long hair was whipped into a chaotic dance by the wind, obscuring her eyes.
She turned her head back in terror.
In the darkness stood someone entirely cloaked by the night. Shen You'an couldn't make out the face—just the tall, gaunt silhouette.
"If you jump from here, no one in this world will remember you. Your death would be the smallest, most inconsequential speck of dust in human existence…"
"Stop it… stop saying that…" She covered her ears and screamed in anguish.
The cruel and piercing truth.
