Jiang Qiao clenched his fists secretly. The paper-paned window blurred the scenery outside, where swaying tree shadows seemed ready to swallow and engulf the whiteness of the window paper.
He didn't turn around just yet, wanting to compose himself before facing her.
A pair of cotton shoes embroidered with white magnolias stepped on the wooden floorboards, creaking softly—a sound chillingly reminiscent of cracking bones.
Chapter 45