Shen Feng had a beard and a buzz cut. He was gaunt—his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes were lifeless. His prison uniform hung loosely on his frame.
But the moment he saw Qin Jiao through the glass, a faint ripple disturbed the stagnant pools of his eyes.
Shen Feng hurried to the glass partition and picked up the phone.
He was agitated, his hand trembling slightly as he held the phone.
In contrast to his agitation, Qin Jiao was far more composed. Her expression was placid, betraying no hint of joy or sorrow.
Shen Yi, on the other hand, was glaring at Shen Feng. If it weren't for the glass partition, he probably would have charged over to give him a good beating.
After sitting down, Qin Jiao picked up the phone. "Did you need something?"
Shen Feng tightened his grip on the phone. 'To be honest, there wasn't anything specific.'
'What could he even say? Beg for Qin Jiao's forgiveness?'
