With a "pop" sound, a burning pain came from the back of my hand.
Patrick Zhuo stopped, but he was not angry about being hit.
After releasing the man's hand, the black-haired young man glanced at him calmly. His elegant face was indifferent and without any fluctuations.
Ethan Fu's back was pressed against the marble railing of the balcony, and his chest was pressed tightly by this person, locking him in this small space. The close distance made it almost inevitable that the auras of both parties would be entangled.
"Ethan Fu."
Login to comment
Be the first one to comment...