A blood-stained fruit knife dropped to the ground, accompanied by Meng Xi'er's weak body, clanging against the floor.
There was already a small pool of blood accumulated on the beige floor. The shocking color accompanied the smell of blood, quickly diffusing through the air.
Lu Yebai's eyes widened slightly, his mind buzzing. For a moment, it felt like even his heart had stopped.
His body instinctively made a move, embracing Meng Xi'er as she fell to the ground. The woman, already pale, had lost every bit of color on her face. The tears that trailed down her cheeks were like crystals of ice melting on snow, translucent but sending chills down the spine.
Lu Yebai quickly lifted her up and ran down the stairs like a madman. His father was taking care of his newly awakened mother, only to see his elder son, pale-faced, carrying the unconscious Meng Xi'er downstairs.
The trail of blood dripping down froze everyone in place.
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