The moment Zhou Qing disappeared before his eyes, Wang Yunxiao stood frozen in shock for a full two seconds.
As for this girl's past, he could say that he was both familiar and a stranger to it.
She was like a fragile flower, just unearthed from the mud pit and planted in a pot, unable to enjoy the warmth of a few days of sunlight before being ravaged by fierce winds and torrential rain into withered branches and rotten leaves.
After time rewound, everything in this world that belonged to her ceased to exist.
Zhou Qing was still alive, but she was merely an unknown ghost to everyone else.
Besides Wang Yunxiao, she could find no sense of belonging in this world.
She was sensible, knowing that she should not live in the shadow of hatred, even though it was the way fierce ghosts thrived.
She hid in his embrace simply because she was too tired and sought a moment's warmth and shelter.
Yet even such a humble expectation, Wang Yunxiao failed to fulfill for her.
