In that instant, He Yu realized that his childhood bogeyman was merely an ordinary person—a slightly slender man, at that. He Yu’s white T-shirt hung loose on Xie Qingcheng, the dip at the collar exposing pale skin, like a gulf at the base of a snowy mountain stream, cast in shadow by the garment. Weird—why had he been so afraid of Xie Qingcheng back then?
