After seven years, Dai Yu once again heard Jiang Chi's gentle, deep and mellow voice, which was as gentle as seeing him in person. There was only a wall between them, and there was no surprise, let alone a conversation of anticipation for reunion after a long absence. Dai Yu's face was pale and large beads of sweat kept sliding down her delicate jade-like skin. The tiger head guillotine on her neck shone fiercely, like a prisoner, waiting for Ling Chi instead of redemption.