"There's no need for such grand talk of dying a thousand deaths..." Baili An's eyes curved upwards, but there was no laughter in them, "Could you please raise your arm and roll up your sleeve to let me see your wrist, if you don't mind?"
Despite myriad thoughts, he never expected to hear such a phrase.
Ji Ting's face stiffened harshly, feeling as if the mild-mannered youth before him had suddenly turned into a venomous snake, hissing and baring its tusks at him.
He recoiled sharply, and his extended hands snapped back as if they had touched flames.
Cold sweat began to stream down his temples; his face still forcedly maintained composure, as he attempted to summon a smile and cautiously said, "Benefactor, what do you mean by this?"
"Just the literal meaning." Baili An's gaze fell on Ji Ting's sleeve, his tone still even but brooking no refusal.
