Wang Yixuan looked deeply at Fu Han but said nothing.
In the quiet corridor of the 22nd floor at Huating No.1, only the two of them stood under the dim glow of a lamp overhead, which enveloped their bodies but somehow failed to illuminate their cheeks.
Fu Han's face was indistinct, yet her eyes shone exceptionally bright, "Wang Yixuan, do you dare to say you don't love Nan Qing? If you dare, then I'll let you leave!"
For a moment, Wang Yixuan's body stiffened, like a noble tree that would never bend its proud posture, or perhaps like a body frozen solid in the cold wind.