Unfortunately, the Lin Xiaotian before him no longer resembled the carefree person of two years ago, nor did she carry the repressed sensuality of the past two years.
At this moment, she was terrifyingly cold.
Soon, Li Zimo found himself tightly bound by Lin Xiaotian.
After that, she cleared all the food from the dinner table back into the kitchen, tidied up the table, and then vaulted onto it.
Holding a small knife in her hand, she looked eerily at Li Zimo, tied up to the chair unable to move but fully conscious, staring back at her.
Struggling, Li Zimo growled at her, "Xiao Tian, stop messing around. Let's talk this out. What's wrong with you?"
Sitting on the dining table, Lin Xiaotian swung her legs, hitting the cutlery against the plate even more piercingly than before. The dining room remained dark, illuminated only by the dim candlelight, highlighting Li Zimo's panic and Lin Xiaotian's eeriness.
