Yan Ningke was calm, his ink-black eyes holding the stillness and mystery of the night, with an unfathomable light in them, so unfamiliar, so chilling.
Shao Yang could no longer feel the pain. His head spun and his ears rang, yet he still wanted to lift his head for a look, though he did not know whether he wanted one last look at this world or at the person before him.
You... aren't "Yan Ningke."
Someone yanked him up by the hair, and Shao Yang struggled to open his eyes wide.
"I am." Yan Ningke stared straight at him, enunciating every word. "I am Yan Ningke, and I am not."
Was Yan Ningke a good person? No. To survive, he had scavenged through garbage dumps and eaten scraps, doing anything he could to gain some small advantage.
He had never done any particularly good deeds, but neither had he crossed any inviolable lines. He could beg, could plaster on a smile and plead with people to hire him, but he would never steal.
Had he never considered it when hunger drove him to the brink? He had. But he also understood that once he entertained those crooked thoughts, he could never return to his original path.
So the moment he transmigrated into the novel, he unleashed the madness he had suppressed to survive. He began to let his true nature loose, doing only what he wanted and loving only whom he wanted.
Falling in love with Shao Ke had been effortless. A child who had not grown up with love would be overwhelmed by even a little kindness and try every possible way to give something back.
When he first arrived, he let himself run wild in the villa, unconsciously testing Shao Ke's limits little by little. Honestly, if they