An Mo's hand remained firmly wrapped around Rong Ye's wrist, his grip unyielding, as though even the slightest looseness might allow the other man to slip away again…this time beyond reach.
For a brief moment, An Mo said nothing. He simply looked at him.
But the silence was not calm. It was heavy, suffocating, filled with restrained anger.
Then his expression hardened completely.
"You…" His voice was low, but it carried a chilling sharpness. "You actually tried to do something like that?"
Rong Ye did not respond. His body still trembled faintly, his breathing uneven, his eyes empty and unfocused as if his mind had yet to return from that dark, suffocating place.
He looked like someone who had already stepped halfway into the abyss.
Seeing him like this, the coldness in An Mo's eyes deepened.
"How could you even think about something like this?" he said, his tone turning harsher.
