Jiang Xiangyang knew she was crying again, pulled her away, and wiped the tears from her face with his finger. He didn’t know how to comfort her, and her tears left him feeling lost.
“Jing Xin, stop crying!”
He started to scold her with a stern face.
Jing Xin’s tears flowed more intensely. She felt miserable, overwhelmed by emotions.
“Xiangyang, I understand,” she said, her tearful eyes gazing at him, her voice choked.
Jiang Xiangyang’s eyes seemed dark and deep. He pressed his hand against her head, pulling her tightly to his chest.
He silently swore to himself, Jing Xin, I will protect you and not let you be hurt.
Vows are like wind; how many promises can truly be trusted?
Time is ruthless, and how could a small vow possibly remain eternal?
Today’s feelings may become invisible weapons tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Life and Death Moment
When they walked out of the teahouse, the rain had stopped. The post-rain air was damp and crisp.
The night gradually thickened. The suburban area was dimly lit compared to the city, with only a few shops offering faint light, and the street lamps illuminating the ground beneath.
The street was empty. The deep autumn night wind blew, making the place as quiet as an abandoned city.
After leaving, Jiang Xiangyang felt a strange sensation, sensing that beneath the tranquility lurked an undercurrent. He squinted, scanning the surroundings.
The pitch-black night concealed evil.
Jiang Xiangyang draped his coat over Jing Xin, noting her thin clothing in the cold. A gust of wind would surely turn her nose bright red.
He glanced ahead and saw a man approaching through the fog. Though he seemed like an ordinary passerby, his precise steps and fixed gaze aroused Jiang Xiangyang’s suspicion, prompting him to discreetly reach into his pocket.
At that moment, he hoped the man was just a passerby. He wasn’t afraid of death, but with a woman beside him, his emotions felt disrupted. He increasingly realized that someone like him shouldn’t form attachments, yet he had foolishly entered this situation.
The man stopped seven or eight meters away, his eyes gleaming as he stared at them. Suddenly, he laughed coldly and raised a gun, its black muzzle aimed directly at Jiang Xiangyang’s head.
