Wen Qiao suddenly looked up, her eyes wide with surprise as she looked at him, "Are you saying I can stay?"
"Temporarily," the man's eyes narrowed slightly. "I could also temporarily ignore you, let you continue to take your mind off things. But, once I need to find you, you must appear."
"And be ready to leave at any time?" she asked, mustering her courage.
The man's lips curved in a smirk, but his eyes were devoid of mirth, making his face seem even colder.
"Don't even think of staying in Manchester for life. Qiao, don't forget, you're supposed to return eventually," the man's voice was cruel. "No matter how high a kite flies, its string is held in someone's hand. If you want to break free and cut that string, then you won't be able to fly at all."
Wen Qiao dared not speak further; she sat to the side, head bowed, lost in thought.
The man paid her no more attention as if she were mere air.
He turned to the middle-aged man beside him, "Has that person been found yet?"
