"Hehe, it's all too late. Everything is too late."
However—Lin Zifeng walked in, and his words did not calm Beiming Yu but instead left her muttering to herself.
At this moment, her hair was disheveled, and she looked particularly unwell mentally.
Her face was pale as snow, and she was extremely weak.
Lin Zifeng knew that she had no intention of talking to anyone now. Even if he could talk the sky into splitting, she wouldn't listen.
"You clearly like me, why don't you say it? Perhaps, that's the barrier between a master and servant."
At this moment, on the dark bed, behind the thin veil, Beiming Yu's eyes were tearful. Sparkling with crystalline tears.
She murmured.
"Who is Mingming?"
Lin Zifeng suddenly frowned. He stopped in his tracks. Then he turned to look in the direction of the dark bed.
"Hey, Beiming Yu. Who is Mingming?"
Lin Zifeng looked confused, not knowing who she was referring to as Mingming.
