"Someone who dares not show their face before me, what right do they have to ask whether I love them or not?" Qiao Xiaren slightly tilted her chin up, scoffing, "In my past life, the chief culprit who caused my death, it was you, wasn't it?"
Her tone was casual, as if the hatred from her previous life had somehow become less significant.
To her surprise, he laughed hoarsely, savoring the moment: "If I was the one who killed you, what would you do? Would you hate me? My beauty."
The term 'beauty' sounded somewhat creepy coming from his mouth. Yet, it was also tinged with a hint of longing and a sense of desolate humor.
"I never remember those who are insignificant to me, like you," she said.
At her last words, the light in his eyes seemed to shatter completely, as if a pang of heartache flickered across his gaze.
"Very well, you said it yourself." He suddenly sneered, "But what should I do if I want you to remember me?"
