Lu Moqing's face looked off when he left, could it be that he was actually injured at the marketplace?
She quickly opened the bedroom door and walked out, and saw that the door to the guest room opposite was half-open, and it was pitch black inside.
Downstairs, in the living room, a dim night light was on. Underneath it, Lu Moqing sat alone on the sofa, his right arm sleeve rolled up revealing his strong arm, and...
And the shocking wound on his arm.
The wound, sliced by a knife, had flesh turned inside out. The whole arm was soaked in blood, but because he was wearing a black shirt and it was late at night, she hadn't noticed that his shirt was soaked in blood.
At this moment, Lu Moqing was wiping the blood around the wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, as if he was afraid of alerting Qiao Xu. Each of his movements was as quiet as possible.
Under the dim light, his lonely figure reflected, his tall body in the living room seemed especially lonely at this moment.
