The man was dressed in a long robe of black with gold accents, and he wore a ghost face mask with a green face and fangs. His hair, white and unbound, cascaded loosely around him.
He slowly sat up, straightening his robe, and then, with one hand propped against his forehead, replied indifferently, "Lady, what is this supposed to mean? Judging by the Lady's demeanor, it seems as though you've come to levy accusations."
She grabbed the front of his robe with one hand, closing the gap between them.
"Liang Zhichen, memory loss is no excuse, but who gave you permission to leave without a word? Leaving is one thing, but to be even more outrageous than Yixuan and not send any message at all for so long!"
If it wasn't for the firm belief in her heart, she might have thought the man had died in some unknown corner of the world.
The worry she felt in the past was now matched by her rage.
