"Hah..."
The verbal attacks of the previous moment escalated into a very real battle of lips and tongues the next second.
The rising sourness in Wan Fuqi's throat forced the corners of his eyes crimson.
As if seeking comfort, he lifted those pale blue eyes and stared unblinkingly at the Alpha looking down at him.
He was not begging for mercy, nor was he backing down.
He simply felt that, as he looked at the little stutterer with loose golden hair, this act that brought him no pleasure had gained a little of the tenderness and intimacy between lovers, as well as a little of the value and reason it ought to have had.
Those stubborn, proud eyes, blurred indistinctly by a white haze, were like stained-glass windows in an ancient castle.
He was the person standing inside the window.
Li Mao was the rainstorm outside.
The relentless rain hammered violently against the window frame, trying to drown the person inside who was overestimating himself.
Unwilling to accept it, that person became hysterical and deliberately tried to control the unrestrained rain outside.
Until this morning, when Li Mao stroked his hair and pronounced him guilty of not loving him at all.
At that moment, Wan Fuqi heard a sound that did not belong to that rainstorm—the tremor of the window.
He realized that the rain he had believed was already tangled with him in an endless struggle had never actually entered.
So, he pushed open that window.
Those violent raindrops began to strike him mercilessly.
Yet he felt relieved, lighter than he had ever felt before.
It was as if he should have stepped into the rainstorm long ago, been swept up by the biting gale, and, amid flashing lightning and rolling thunder, staggered unwillingly toward a distant shore he