Compared to the last time, Han Zhifan was just as merciless. After he finished, Cheng Weiwan laid on the bed, not angry in the slightest. She was like a broken doll with hollow eyes; she motionlessly stared up at the ceiling.
Seeing Cheng Weiwan like that, Han Zhifan suddenly became quiet and didn't instinctively turn to leave when he finished.
Cheng Weiwan's face was very pale and the expression on her face was lifeless.
The cut on her forehead hadn't healed yet. It was unclear when it happened, but the wound was now bleeding from the reopened cut.
Han Zhifan stared at the redness on her forehead and incidentally furrowed his brows. He didn't understand why, but his chest suddenly felt suffocated and his arms beside her couldn't help but tightly clutch the bed sheets.
