"Ah— who the hell is throwing things around? What if someone gets killed? And why is the music so loud? Are you crazy?"
Below, the startled curses of passersby echoed up.
Mo Nanjue, hands in his pockets, didn't say a word. His dark, shining pupils were deep as the sea as he stared intently at Luo Xiao.
Yes, he was crazy.
He, Mo Nanjue, was fucking sick!
Luo Xiao's clothes were disheveled but he didn't seem to find anything amiss. Mo Nanjue's pain at the moment was something Luo Xiao completely understood. He had felt such pain more than once before, and he intended for Mo Nanjue to have his fill of the same bitter taste. With his back to Tong Ran, he didn't need to hide the cruelty that spread at the corners of his eyes, "Young Master Jue, your timing is impeccable."
Mo Nanjue looked at him coldly, "Speak clearly, I didn't come here, I returned."
Luo Xiao's lips curled, "Is this your home?"