The next day, Su Ziceng tore off the band-aid on his face, leaving a small, inconspicuous wound at the corner of his mouth, shallow and reddish. In the mirror, his complexion was delicate, showing no signs of staying up late, apart from that accidental wound.
Hang Yishao's temperament was just like that. Su Ziceng tossed the flimsy band-aid aside, examining his own reflection with a furrowed brow. Whether it was his relationship with Pello or with Hang Yishao, things were currently both complicated and messy, with his internal balance tipping now and then.
Physically, he still couldn't resist Hang Yishao. Under such circumstances last night, if it were someone else, he would have definitely made them regret it, but under Hang Yishao's dominance, he felt powerless.
