Zhao Jingyi's body trembled instinctively, as if merely recalling that name caused her soul to shiver uncontrollably.
Zheng Hang gently placed his hands on her shoulders, exerting slight pressure with his ten fingers, and the coldness seeped through his fingertips, gradually pulling her out of the mire of fear.
He lowered his head, and the pair of eyes beneath his glasses were deep and dark, gazing into Zhao Jingyi's eyes.
Zhao Jingyi stiffly raised her neck, staring into those eyes, as if gazing into another bottomless black abyss.
Zheng Hang's breath softly brushed against her face, carrying a mesmerizing reassurance, yet faintly tinged with an indescribable eeriness:
"Zhao Jingyi, do not fear your past, and even more so, do not evade your future."
His voice was deep and slow, resonating with a hardness emanating from his bones, imbuing one with strength:
"Fear is merely a trap set by the wicked for you. Only by facing it head-on can you crush it.
