Hang Yishao helped Fei Qing off the yacht, it was already dawn, he hadn't slept all night, and when disembarking from the yacht, he could not stop his legs from going weak, and he stumbled.
Once Hang Yishao steadied himself, Fei Qing, still on his shoulder, was humming and muttering drunkenly. He did not look back, but he could feel the beast-like gaze behind them constantly watching them.
The feeling of defeat, still that strong sensation of defeat, Hang Yishao very much disliked this feeling, but the people he met recently and the things that happened around him always gave him this damned feeling.
"Ah Qing," Hang Yishao propped Fei Qing up in the car, patting his face anxiously.
