The things you try hard to avoid will always inexplicably meet you again at the next place.
In just about ten minutes of togetherness, Qingran could clearly see some differences in God Ji from before.
If she really had to pinpoint the difference, it was that God Ji had become more taciturn, and even his gaze seemed to be impenetrably dark compared to before.
Qingran didn't know why God Ji had changed into this state—previously, when they fed cats together, she could occasionally sense a spark of vitality in him.
Now he was nothing like before; this version of God Ji seemed nothing but lifeless.
Qingran felt some anxiety because God Ji's gaze now greatly resembled the look he had when he jumped off the building at the age of twenty-nine.
Dark and oppressive, as if he had closed the doors to his own world, not allowing anyone in.
Standing face to face, Qingran eventually mentioned how her dad had sent those cats to the pet hospital.
