After dealing with the three ruffians, Zhang Jingyun inevitably had some bloodstains smeared on his face, which added a touch of murderous intent to his delicate features.
He turned and walked back into the room, where the flickering candlelight cast a warm, golden glow over everything inside.
Song Zhishan sat in the wooden tub, wreathed in rising vapor. A few strands of hair clung to her cheeks, making her look even more delicate and vulnerable.
Chapter 70