Fang Yuhuan smiled.
He reached out and gently patted the top of Gu Shengyin's soft hair, just like when she was still a little fluff ball, smoothing her fur.
"Mm, my Xueli is the most beautiful."
He held Gu Shengyin's hand and began to walk back.
He had many questions in his heart, but at this moment he only wanted to do one thing—to hold this girl's hand and take her home.
"Ah—" Suddenly, their steps halted.
A figure blocked their way.
A disheveled little girl, her hair loose, was wandering aimlessly.
"Is it her?" Fang Yuhuan frowned.
He still had some impression of An Weiwei, though it wasn't a good one.
If he remembered correctly, this lady of the An Family should have been confined forcibly in their villa because of "mental illness."
How could she suddenly appear here, and...
Fang Yuhuan looked at her blood-stained dress, holding a sharp knife in her hand, her expression frenzied—it was clear that she didn't look like a normal person.
