Lo Yingbai’s heart sank. He clearly remembered that there should have been a wall behind him just now—so where did this hand come from? A low laugh came from behind. Lo Yingbai struck back with his elbow, breaking free from the hand, and took a step forward, drawing his knife and turning around. With a light “cha” sound of the blade leaving its sheath, Cang Ling Yueyi was already positioned at the neck of the person behind him.
“…Ge Panming?” he said. Before him was a face he had never seen before. This person had an extremely delicate and beautiful face, with smooth and soft facial lines. However, the cold and hard look between his eyebrows diluted this softness, making him not appear effeminate, but giving an unusually sinister feeling.
This was the first time Ge Panming had revealed his true appearance. With Lo Yingbai’s knife at his neck, he showed no panic, instead raising an eyebrow and slowly curving his lips. “Do you know me? Do you remember?” Ge Panming stared at him intently, enunciating each word: “Ming, Lang.” His complexion was extremely pale, his lips extremely red.
The vivid color contrast gave Lo Yingbai an almost visceral sense that this person had just drunk blood. A strange feeling flashed through his mind, but his face remained expressionless as he lowered his knife, saying, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Ge Panming’s gaze flickered, and Lo Yingbai continued, “I can recognize you because among the people I know, there’s no other pervert who doesn’t dare show their true self, always appearing as a phantom to cause trouble.”
