7

The night wind was chilly, blowing in through the window.

After making many phone calls, Shen Qingchen kept hearing the sound of my phone being turned off and was forced to conclude that I had run away from home.

He defined this as running away from home, with a noticeable displeasure in his eyes, and called my best friend.

My best friend, Jiang Lan.

She is considered a pretty good friend in my world.

The only good friend, in fact.

Evidently, she did not know about my death, but she instinctively sensed something was wrong.

On the other end of the phone, she urgently asked, "Shen Qingchen, why are you asking me where Ning Zhu is?"

"Shouldn't she be with you?"

"What happened to you two? Argued? Can't find Ning Zhu?"

"What happened?!"

She was still obviously sensitive.

Shen Qingchen, annoyed and displeased, pinched the bridge of his nose, "Nothing happened."

He tried to hide it, but Jiang Lan wouldn't let him.