Jiang Xiaoxiao stared, dumbfounded, at the cut brake line.
She wasn't stupid.
Song Moting had kept his back to her, facing this direction all along, his line of sight fixed here.
The brake line before her was clearly cut, not torn apart by force.
The marks of tearing and cutting are totally different.
Anyone with eyes could see the difference.
Pointing at the brake line, "Is this... cut?"
Then she looked up and glanced at him. His expression made her whole body tense.
Jiang Xiaoxiao had seen various expressions from Song Moting: cold and expressionless; hearty laughter; when joyful, his lips curved into a graceful arc; when mocking, his eyes gleamed with a wicked light.
Yet the expression he had now was one she'd never seen before, as if he were another person.
His lips pressed into a ruthless line, the light in his dark eyes chilling the spine, shining angrily.
His face was pale with rage, his gaze even sharper.
