Wang Yuan, in a fluster, carried a basin of cold water and poured it over his head, finally putting a stop to the billowing black smoke, as an indescribable burnt smell filled the air.
Mingshu was led away by two people, retreating several steps.
"Sister Mingshu, you are not hurt..." Wang Yuan, with a worried look in his eyes, turned to Mingshu, his words suddenly choking off halfway.
He saw that Mingshu's face had been smoked to pitch black, completely obscuring her original appearance.
The worst part was a strand of her hair on top of her head appeared singed, slightly curled and comically sitting on her forehead.
Wang Yuan, speechless: ...Good gracious, this doesn't look like you're okay at all.
Wen Zhiyi was also taken aback, her lips parting as if to speak, then stopping short. She glanced at the mess on the ground with a tactful tone, as if afraid of hurting Mingshu's pride.
"Shall we just call it quits?"
