As early evening descended, Qín Wǎnshuāng’s eyelashes quivered slightly. Ye Fan was keeping watch by the bed, holding her hand to channel warm, nourishing true qi into her, and at the sight, his thumb gently brushed against the gauze at her temple.
The bloodstain had already dried into a dark brown, resembling a withered red plum. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was as soft as moonlight spilling down: "Awake?"
"It hurts." Qín Wǎnshuāng blinked, her voice as raspy as sandpaper scraping against a jade disk. Gazing at the faint bruises beneath his eyes, she suddenly smiled. "Looking like that, you're more like a little wolf cub whose backbone's been ripped out."
Chapter 190