The man pressed her leg down; the thin fabric of her pants separating their skin.
He reached out to hold her hand only to come into contact with the medicine on her palm. Li Nanheng's brain suddenly faltered. He lowered his head and flipped her palm over to see the small cut left by the dagger. Although the wound wasn't deep, it had only stopped bleeding a while ago.
He wanted to make her pay for fooling him for so long; to make her cry on the bed, and to make her scream his name with her typically composed and distant voice. He wanted to make her beg for mercy under him.
But Feng Ling, who was unconscious and injured, could not endure any punishment right now.
As her cheeks turned even more flushed, the man closed his eyes and abruptly turned around to head to the bathroom.
As he stood under the cold water, the young woman's expression and body clung onto his mind. The cold water did nothing to take away the images.
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