Her voice was low and hoarse, with a coldness and determination that penetrated the bone marrow, as if she was reading out the final judgment.
"This slap is for Ye Qingliu. For those who died in vain. And even more so, for the twenty years I've been blind!"
She looked down at Su Xinghui, who was sitting in the mud and paper scraps in a miserable state. There was no warmth in her eyes, only endless disgust and coldness.
"From today on," Ye Fanshuang said, his voice as clear as ice beads falling on a jade plate, "there is no friendship between you and me. We are no longer friends."
Su Xinghui covered her cheek, which was burning with pain and rapidly swelling. The severe pain was intertwined with the bone-chilling despair in Ye Fanshuang's words.
She raised her head and looked at Ye Fanshuang in the wheelchair, who had once been gentle and indulgent to her but was now as cold as the goddess of vengeance. A huge sense of fear and loss instantly overwhelmed her.
Tears flowed down her face like a flood, mixed with blood from the corners of her mouth, leaving dirty grooves on her delicate makeup. She whimpered in despair: "Fanshuang...don't...please...for the sake of our friendship over the years...please..."
"Beg me?" Ye Fanshuang seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke in the world, and a short and cold sneer came out of his throat. The laughter was full of endless sadness and irony.
"Go and ask Ye Qingliu to forgive you—if he's lucky enough to wake up from the gates of hell."
"Or, ask those you blew to pieces to forgive you? See if they'll crawl out of hell and say 'It's okay'?"
After she finished speaking, she didn't even glance at the crying and disheveled figure on the ground, as if it was just a pile of dirty garbage.
She pushed the joystick of the wheelchair with an expressionless face. The cold metal wheelchair rolled over the "evidence" and delicate flowers and plants scattered on the ground, and drove back in the direction it came from without any reluctance.
The sunlight fell on her straight back, which seemed to be carrying a heavy burden, outlining a lonely and cold silhouette.
Su Xinghui slumped on the cold and muddy ground, her expensive skirt covered in dirt and grass, her carefully groomed image gone.
She looked at the back of the man who left resolutely.
Listen to the monotonous and cold "clack" sound of the wheelchair rolling over the cobblestone path gradually fade away.
She finally couldn't hold it back any longer and let out a heart-wrenching, desperate cry.
She knew that she had lost Ye Fanshuang completely and forever.
(Small Theater—Three Ways to Enter the Water)
When someone provokes them...
(Night Clear Flow Chapter————)
Jin Shixun stumbled back to the edge of the pool, his back resting on the cold tiles. Cold sweat oozed from his forehead, his lips trembling, yet he forced a fierce expression.
"You, don't come over here!" He waved his fists fiercely, his knuckles still bruised from the fight. "If you come any closer, I'll fucking kill you!"
Ye Qingliu did not answer.
He didn't even change his expression, he just pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and the lenses reflected a cold light, obscuring his eyes.
His pace was steady, and each step seemed to have measured the distance, approaching without haste or slowness.
Jin Shixun swallowed and suddenly realized that Ye Qingliu was not approaching him, but calculating.
Calculate the angle.
Calculate force.
Calculate his posture when he fell into the water.
The next second, Ye Qing flowed.
His movements were so fast that they were almost invisible. His right hand precisely grasped Jin Shixun's wrist, and his thumb pressed on the radial nerve, gently pressing -
"Ah!" Kim Sehun's entire arm was instantly paralyzed, and his fist dropped limply.
The night clear stream did not stop.
He swept his left leg across, and with a slight hook of his toes, it caught just behind Jin Sehun's ankle.
Leverage.
traction.
Push.
Jin Shixun felt dizzy and his body fell backward uncontrollably.
Ye Qingliu didn't even use much strength, just a light push -
“Plop.”
Kim Sehun fell on his back into the swimming pool with minimal splash, like a perfect entry by a professional diver.
The students watching on the shore were stunned for a moment, and then burst into exclamations.
"Holy crap! This splash is even more beautiful than the national team's!"
"Is this a fucking fight or a diving show?!"
Ye Qingliu stood by the pool, looked down at his watch, his tone as calm as if he was commenting on a game.
"1.5 seconds of airtime, 70-degree angle of entry," he commented flatly. "Not good enough."
Jin Shixun struggled to the surface of the pool, coughing and choking, his hair sticking to his face, looking miserable. He looked up at Ye Qingliu, his lips trembling, but he couldn't say a word.
Ye Qingliu pushed his glasses, turned and left, his back as straight as a sword drawn from its sheath.
——His kicking is like a physics experiment.
(Chao Youye Chapter———)
Sato was punched by Chao Youye and fell to the edge of the swimming pool. He held his stomach and couldn't stand up. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were still fierce, like a beast that had been cornered.
"You f—" He gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse, "You're looking for death!"
Chao Youye didn't let him finish.
He didn't even change his expression, just shook his wrist, his knuckles still stabbing with the slight pain from the recoil of the punch. His eyes were as cold as ice, yet burning with a kind of almost violent rage.
Sato suddenly stood up, picked up the iron chair next to him, and swung it towards Chao Youye!
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