Sang Yan came every three days, so he had no motive to take Qiaoqiao away. But still clutching at hope, Zong Fang immediately called Sang Yan, only to find out he was in town and hadn't been over at all.
His hand fell limply, his eyes filled with panic and tension, his heart so anxious that his stomach knotted up.
Who else, who else could it be?
Was it Zong Yan? Had he deliberately made him leave to meet him just to steal Qiaoqiao's body?
Thinking of this possibility, Zong Fang turned and dashed out, but upon seeing a slender figure near the cliff, he froze in place.
Zong Fang's gaze locked onto her, his breath stopped for a moment, fearful that this was merely an illusion, afraid that she would disappear again if he got closer.
His heart pounded in his ears like thunderous drums, unbelieving of his own eyes, his lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
He feared this was Qiaoqiao's spirit and didn't dare call out to her, afraid he might startle her away.