Ji Xiaosong's voice pierced through the courtyard. Upstairs on the second floor, Ji Youshu, who was adjusting a radio, jolted. The soldering iron in his hand skittered across the metal workbench, sending up a shower of sparks.
He practically slammed open the French doors and rushed onto the terrace, only to freeze mid-step at the sight of the figure in the courtyard.
Lin Xiaoxiao was wrapped in Ji Xiaosong's beige trench coat. The gentle curve of her five-month pregnant belly was visible in the morning light.
The moment she looked up at him, Ji Youshu's Adam's apple bobbed violently. His hand, gripping the railing, crushed the concrete into a spiderweb of cracks.
"Xiaoxiao?"
His voice was as hoarse as if it had been scraped with sandpaper. As he vaulted over the third-floor terrace railing, his superpower spiraled out of control. Huge slabs of earth and rock erupted from the ground, tightly enclosing the courtyard.
