Chapter 17

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Arc 1 [END]

The long heavy curtains are tightly shut, letting no light seep inside. One wouldn’t know whether it is day or night.

The bell rang, Fu Zhou picked up the phone. Before he got out of bed, he looked at the sleeping teenager with a happy smile and softly kissed under his swollen eyes.

—-I Love You.

(T/N: Dunno guys, but these gives me shivers. It gives off dark magic.)

Shortly after he left, there was a strange noise in the quiet bedroom.

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The rosy face of the body on the bed gradually turned pale. The shallow breathing slowed down, the undulating chest calmed down. If someone doesn’t observe carefully, they wouldn’t realize that the body has already lost its soul.

Fu Zhou listened to his assistant’s report without saying a word, he was surprised with what he was hearing but he took it in stride.

Su Yang did not lie, he only met Wen Xiuning twice.

Once was when he was performing on campus. He asked for a signature photo like an ordinary fan. The second time was on the set, he was restricted because of the filming. Wen Xiuning took the initiative to lend his coat to him.

Apart from this, there is no other interaction between the two.

Thinking of the boy’s crying face last night, explaining himself over and over again, he released a soft sigh.

This time, he was in the wrong.

Putting away the phone, Fu Zhou turned towards the bedroom, watching the boy for a while, he didn’t know how to explain himself.

Should he say sorry? Will he accept it? He knows better than anyone else. Once the damage is done, there is no way for recovery.

Still, he still can’t let go.

He sat on the edge of the bed, stretched out his arm and tried to hold the boy up but his movements immediately stopped. At that moment, he was bound by an overwhelming fear.

After a long time, he gradually calmed down and thought of the sentence that Su Yang repeated over and over again last night.

—-You Will Regret This.

(T/N: Ah~ dark magic is thickening in this room.)

For a long time, he whispered: “Ayao, I’m sorry.”

But the boy on the bed did not give him any more response.

Fu Zhou opened the quilt and got into the bed. He hugged the boy on the bed and slowly closed his eyes.

He seems to have become a sculpture, no words, no movements, no expressions. In his mind, he convinced himself that he’s imagining of silly things, his arms increased their pressure. As if this would make the boy stay.

But the ones that are dead are long doomed to be recovered.

What power? What Love? This boy has never belonged to him from beginning to the end.

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