Zi Han knew that asking such a question was dangerous. In the fragile state Ming Ye was in now, every word felt like stepping across thin ice that could crack beneath her at any moment. Yet she still needed to ask. Maybe a part of her was desperately hoping he would deny it. Maybe she simply wanted to hold onto the belief that there was still a line he hadn't crossed yet, that despite everything, he had not truly become someone capable of hurting another person she cared deeply about so calmly.
Ming Ye's smile did not falter. If anything, it softened slightly, but the warmth never reached his eyes.
Those dark eyes turned colder as they settled on her face, studying her quietly as though he could already hear every fearful thought running through her mind. He reached forward slowly, his thumb brushing lightly against the corner of her lips where a stray grain of rice had remained. The gesture should have felt gentle. Instead, it felt suffocating, almost like a threat.
