Cheng Weiyue is such a cruel person, she will not look back.
Zhao Hanchen felt his eyes turn sour, and tears fell like an exclamation mark, crashing into Cheng Weiyue's shoulder socket.
In her rare bouts of irascibility and anger, he gently and hoarsely called her name.
"Ningning..."
"Ningning..."
What answered him was the acute pain in his shoulder.
He was scantily clothed, Cheng Weiyue bit into his flesh with all her might, withholding not a shred of mercy.
Finally, the pain made him let go, and the next moment, his face received a solid slap.
Cheng Weiyue stumbled back a few steps, her face flushed and disheveled with rage: "Zhao Hanchen, you lunatic!"
Yet his cheek burned, and he tilted his head, silent, not uttering a word in his defense.
He actually understood Cheng Weiyue as well. He knew that if he were willing to show weakness and explain himself, given her nature, she would likely not dwell on the matter any longer.
But he did not want to speak.