The man scattered his black hair, holding a branch and stirring the fire flames. His sculpture-like figure was covered with a soft glow under the bonfire.

This face had already been branded on Xia Nuan’s mind.

“Ye Sichen? You are not dead?”

Xia Nuan retracted herself gradually. Thinking of what happened before, she was still scared.

As the fishing boat was about to turn back to Zhongshan, there was a sudden typhoon. Then the fishing ...