Qingran's breath hitched. Not from fear, but from the sheer intensity in Feng Yizhou's gaze. It burned into her, sharp and unrelenting.
Her back pressed against the wall, but she didn't look away. "Would you rather I cry and beg for forgiveness?"
His grip on her chin tightened ever so slightly. "I would rather you stop throwing yourself into danger like an idiot."
She arched a brow. "I handled it…didn't I?."
Feng Yizhou let out a low, humorless laugh. "Handled it?" His voice dropped, edged with something dark. "You mean you almost got raped and had to stab a man to get away?"
Qingran narrowed her eyes. "Would you rather I hadn't stabbed him?"
His jaw clenched. His grip didn't falter. "I would rather you had told me where you were going in the first place."
Qingran scoffed. "And let you stop me? Please."
Something flashed in his eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous.
