She lay there for a long time, the pain on her face not subsiding at all; instead, it grew more severe.
Fu Yingjun winced in pain, spit out the fresh blood in his mouth, and returned home in a sorry state.
As soon as he exited the elevator, he saw someone crouched at the door, obviously waiting for his return.
His steps faltered, a flicker of heartache passed through his eyes, but he forced himself to look away, pretending not to see Zhuo Huining, and opened the door to enter.
"Ajun!" Hearing footsteps, Zhuo Huining suddenly stood up, but when she saw the injury on Fu Yingjun's face, her breath caught in her throat.
"Ajun, how did you get injured? Does it hurt?"
Limping her hand away gently, Fu Yingjun stepped back to create some distance, "I'm fine."
"I'm sorry..." Zhuo Huining said, looking down, clutching the hem of her clothes tightly, so sad she wanted to die, yet unable to shed a single tear.
