She couldn't believe she hadn't fallen to the ground.
She, a tiny figure, lay on Yang Xian's chest, crying and looking at Yang Xian.
Her eyes were misty, giving a foggy view of the person in front of her.
For a moment, Yang Xian gave her the same feeling as in the live-stream, but the next second, that feeling disappeared, and Yang Xian's murderous intent resurfaced.
Yang Xian himself was also pondering.
It was strange, a kind of indescribable strangeness.
The voice in his head kept reminding him that the Su Family was the enemy, especially Su Mianmian.
As soon as the opportunity arose, the blade hidden in his body would unsheathe to cut Su Mianmian's throat or pierce her chest.
For such a small child, there was actually no need for a sharp weapon, nor a need for the right time, place, and people; killing her could be done anytime, anywhere, very simply.
Yet, the one who told him this information said that to kill Su Mianmian, he could only rely on his arrangement.