Bright pearls scorch brightly, the flow of white light.
Fang Geyu lowered her eyes emotionlessly at the wine glass in Baili An's fingertips, raising her hand to gently take it.
The golden cup entered her hand, instantly transforming into quicksand and scattering from her fingertips.
She said blandly: "Something I wanted a moment ago, now I don't want it anymore. Tell me, what should I do?"
Seeing this resistant and cold appearance, Baili An gently squinted his eyes and stepped forward again.
A calm posture carrying an inexplicable aggressive intent.
Over the past three years, Fang Geyu sealed away her seven emotions, and her body seemed to have stopped growing accordingly, naturally not getting taller.
She was half a head shorter than Baili An.
Her high nose bridge nearly touched Baili An's chin.
Yet Fang Geyu did not step back even half a step; perhaps sensing the compelling intent in Baili An's aura, she coldly lifted her eyes.
