Jiang Xun's beautiful eyes went round at the shouting. His lips moved as he tried to say something, but Shen Wangjing gave him no chance to get a word in.
"You think not being afraid to die makes you impressive? Let me tell you, there's nothing impressive about not fearing death. Staying alive is what's impressive."
Jiang Xun finally couldn't keep smiling. Shen Wangjing's tirade cracked that flippant shell of his, the fractures spreading from the corners of his mouth all the way to his eyes.
Shen Wangjing's grip on his shoulders didn't ease in the slightest. Some emotion Jiang Xun had never seen on his face before surged in those pitch-black eyes.
Duan Qizhao crouched nearby, not even daring to breathe loudly.
Holy shit, so this was what happened when the quiet one exploded. It was practically deafening!
Jiang Xun stood frozen, his eyelashes trembling a few times.
He had spent seventeen years in the orphanage, and no one had ever looked for him when he disappeared.
When he was locked in a toilet stall during a spring outing, no one noticed his absence. When he curled up on a hard plank bed, delirious with a high fever, no one asked a single question.
He had taken it for granted that this time would be the same. If the production crew noticed he was gone, they would scold him a little at most. If Shen Wangjing noticed, he would frown at most.
But this man had come after him.
And he looked this awful.
Shen Wangjing looked at the moisture that had gathered on the tips of his eyelashes at some point and stayed silent for a long time. His fingers loosened from Jiang Xun's shoulders one by one, then he raised a hand to pick a small piece