Wu Yuxuan returned to his cooking, his back to her as he moved with effortless precision around the kitchen. The muscles in his frame were taut, defined—each movement fluid and controlled.
Chen Lin found herself momentarily distracted by the sight, her mind swirling with hazy fragments of the night before.
Then her gaze landed on his shoulder blade. As he draped the white towel over it, she caught a glimpse of something red—barely visible against his pale skin, but unmistakable when she looked closely enough.
A faint mark.
That definitely wasn't something she'd done, right?
Her pulse quickened as a knot of dread twisted in her stomach. She massaged her temples, hoping to ease the pounding headache that clouded her thoughts, but the questions kept coming.
