The figure seemed like a dream or illusion, making people intoxicated and fascinated.
"Qianling..." Leon Luo murmured. He subconsciously stretched out his hand and tried to grab something in vain, but he only grasped nothing in the black dust all over the sky.
A handful of air floated lightly in his palm, and it seemed as if his heart suddenly became empty.
However, before Leon Luo lowered his empty hand, the thin figure like mist and smoke turned around. This person looked indifferent, as if nothing in the world mattered to him. It was John Han himself. He raised his eyes, and when they met, the coldness faded away like melting snow, and his face was clearly filled with the air of life.
He shook his arm, pulling away the black dust between the two of them, and the next moment he rushed forward and held Leon Luo's hand, which he had not yet let go.
Login to comment
Be the first one to comment...