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    Summary

    Luo Binghe’s stomach twisted into knots, and his heart pounded hard in his chest. There was a lump that he wanted so badly to swallow but couldn’t because his throat was constructed too tightly. His breathing became more and more irregular, and heat crawled from his neck to his ears, spreading to his cheeks. As it buzzed for the tenth time, he swiped the screen on his phone to reject the call.

    Leaning on the wall, he slid down and stared at the open drawer at the bottom of his nightstand. His gaze moved to the clothes he’d torn from his dresser and the box he’d pulled out from under his bed and rummaged through. They really weren’t there.

    Why had Ning Yingying given all of those letters to Shen Yuan?

    -

    Or: Ning Yingying is tired of Luo Binghe's shit

    On hiatus

    Language:
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