He slowed his speech, his gaze landing on her hand supporting Zhang Binghua. He suddenly sneered. "So you found some nobody and thought he'd accept someone like you?"
He couldn't deny that Shen Lang was beautiful, stunningly so. Her delicate, fragile appearance, especially with the gauze over her eyes, gave her the look of a frail willow swaying in the wind. It was a sickly beauty that surpassed the legends, more captivating than even the most vibrant spring blossoms.
But so what? No one would be willing to be saddled with a sickly cripple. Blind in one eye, the other one gone. And while her clothes hid her skin, he was sure it was covered in hideous, terrifying scars—utterly unfit to be seen by anyone.
The sneer remained on his face as his mind ran through a hundred different sordid scenarios between the two of them. His gaze on Shen Lang grew even more contemptuous and disdainful.
