The solid fist landed squarely on He Chen's lips, instantly drawing blood.
Yin Mo saw this scene, her heart skipped a beat, and her gaze faltered. She hadn't intended to hit him; it was just a reflex.
She pursed her lips, wanting to say something, but felt it would be unnecessary.
The sudden action had more significance — she did not want to be just another of He Chen's many companions.
Perhaps he held another woman in his arms just last night.
Even if he didn't have the scent of another woman's perfume, that didn't mean he was clean.
In the first half of Yin Mo's life, she suffered suppression and insults, never expecting to stand out, yet she didn't want to become one of his ordinary women.
Even though He Chen was special to her.
At this moment, the air in front of the mansion seemed to have frozen.
He Chen stared unblinkingly at Yin Mo, the dark red at the corner of his lips unable to match the redness of his eyes.
