But seeing his son's red eyes, his tone softened a bit:
"I'm doing this for your own good! Throw this piece of paper away, you hear me?"
Wei Zhuolan clutched the briefing tightly and stepped back, his back hitting the bookshelf heavily.
His mother has never liked Qin Ying, and now after seeing the briefing, she shouldn't react like this.
His heart was beating violently, and a sweet and fishy taste suddenly surged in his throat.
Is it true as Fu Hanzhou said, that Qin Ying's traces will slowly disappear?
Is it true that except for them, no one can see the traces she left behind?
"How is this possible..."
He muttered to himself, stumbling towards the door.
"I'm going to find Fu Hanzhou."
He suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse but extremely firm.
"Zhuo Lan?!"
Screams exploded behind him, but he turned a deaf ear to them, pressed the briefing tightly to his chest, and stumbled out the door.
The dusk stretched his shadow across the bluestone road, and the red rubber band on his wrist swung with his hurried steps, like a wound that would never heal.
When the carved iron gate of the Fu family enlarged before his eyes, Wei Zhuolan's breathing almost tore his chest.
He banged on the door so hard that the sound of the metal knocker startled the sparrows in the tree.
The door slowly opened, and Fu Hanzhou leaned against the door frame, the cigarette between his fingers flickering. The collar of his military uniform was askew, but he exuded an eerie calmness.
It was in stark contrast to the madness surging in his eyes.
"Fu Hanzhou, do you also have something...that others can't see but only we can touch?"
Wei Zhuolan's hand holding the briefing was shaking, the red rubber band on his wrist was faintly visible, and his eyes were staring at him sinisterly.
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