"Knock."
Mo Shangjun was startled.
She turned her head in a daze, the murderous aura not yet dissipated, carrying with it a thick hostility and agility, her clear eyes filled with emotions that were hard to articulate—confusion, hatred, doubt, self-blame... These emotions pierced the heart like soft thorns.
At the same time, her grip on the cell phone relaxed, and it slipped from her hand, falling onto the desk and making a loud noise.
Mo Shangjun's eyes flickered, gradually coming back to her senses.
In just two seconds, during a brief moment of absence, Ya Tianxing didn't have time to confirm.
It seemed Mo Shangjun had returned to normal.
But, he heard her voice, stiff and indifferent, "Is there something wrong?"
Ya Tianxing paused for a second, then said, "It's nothing."
"Oh."
Mo Shangjun responded indifferently.
She didn't even have the intention to deal with Ya Tianxing, not even teasing him about his thoughts.
