Finally, the photos arrived. One look, and he burst into laughter filled with frustration: five photos from Phoenix Sister's portrait collection, topped off with a bonus one of Sister Furong.
"Miss, are you just messing with me?"
"Then why wouldn't you send me a photo?"
He gave a bitter smile. If I showed you, would you even continue chatting with me? You'd probably block me immediately. Somehow, a greedy thought arose within him: I really want to understand her, to know her truest self, her genuine thoughts. When she was by my side, she never talked this much. She was always silent and submissive, never revealing her inner self to anyone—
It was just like his shock moments ago: She was actually afraid that I would chase her to the ends of the earth over a paltry sum of money and throw sulfuric acid at her.
How terrifying! In her eyes, I was no different from those street thugs.
For the first time, he felt a surge of sadness—Was it for her, or for myself?
