Expressionless,
chilling to the extreme,
a sharp knife, shimmering with cold light, was held in front of his face.
He could never forget Lin Yuxi's appearance for the rest of his life—it was terrifying, truly etched into his bones.
Even without seeing her face clearly, just that dreadful aura alone was enough for Lin Xian to feel it from ten meters away, sending shivers down his spine.
On the other hand, looking at Yan Qiaoqiao now…
Petite and cute, harmless to humans and animals, pure and naïve, giving off a soft, fluffy vibe.
Wouldn't it be much better to have such a young girl as a daughter,
compared to a muscular killer like Lin Yuxi?
Lin Xian began to immerse himself in the role.
Reconsidering the question posed by Zhao Yingjun,
"I think… this kind of thing is neither good nor bad."
"[At least in the short term, emotionally, some time is needed to accept and get along.]"