Under the daily torment of my spirit and the physical torture of Sister Chen, Zheng Kang finally couldn't hold on.

At the moment of his death, he suddenly regained consciousness and started talking to me about the scene of our first meeting more than twenty years ago.

"Back then, you had a ponytail, wearing a light pink cheongsam, you were really beautiful."

I coldly snorted, pushed his hand away, and sarcastically said,

"That was the most regretful day of my life. If it weren't for meeting you, I would have had a better life."

"Do you know? Every day I spent with you after you came back, I felt extremely disgusted."

Zheng Kang stared at me, his face becoming paler, his throat seemed blocked, unable to say a word, his breathing gradually became hurried, his chest rose and fell violently before suddenly stopping.

He stared with wide eyes, motionless, I reached out to feel his breath.

There was no breath.

He was dead.

The man who had been entangled with me for decades was dead.

I covered his face with my hand.

Closed his eyes.