The young man lifted his hand, placing it on his forehead, and moved his long legs onto the sofa, slightly bending one.
Because of this movement, more blood seeped from his abdomen.
Yet, the young man's expression remained unchanged, as if he didn't feel any pain.
Finally, the young man tilted his head slightly, his beautiful eyes shimmering lightly, his lips parting a bit, and after a few seconds, a voice echoed: "Why are you staring at me?"
Cold and impatient.
Chuzheng: "I'm watching to see when you might bleed to death."
Xi Mu: "..."
Xi Mu's long lashes drooped slightly, his gaze landing on his abdomen.
A few seconds later, the young man lifted his eyes, staring right into Chuzheng's pupils: "Why don't you give me a stab to make it quicker."
"Alright."
Chuzheng replied swiftly.
She twisted her wrist, and the machete she'd used before appeared in her hand.
The knife moved from above Xi Mu's head to his feet: "Where do you want to be sliced?"
