Dong Huiying watched the guard leave and subtly curled her lips. Casting a sidelong glance into the utility room, though the light was dim, the cold, sharp, and deep gaze of the Prince Meng was fixed on her. Prince Meng looked at her expressionlessly. Dong Huiying raised her eyebrow slightly, glancing at the prince's clenched fist. Tsk, it was bloody. She tossed a bottle into the room, which rolled a few times before stopping at Prince Meng's feet. "The wound on your hand, Your Highness, should be treated."
