He had a crazy desire to taste her blood.
Qiao Xia was indeed hungry, but her meal was tasteless.
Mu Liang watched her eat, sitting opposite her, and his gaze stifled her appetite completely.
"Mu Liang, when are you getting married?" Qiao Xia asked knowingly. It was a masochistic question—Gu Xiaowu had already told her the date, and she just wanted to hear it from him to confirm it again. After what had happened, she wanted Mu Liang himself to confirm it.
Mu Liang frowned at her, his deep eyes sharp like a lone wolf's, as if trying to pierce through her heart. She asked so bluntly, so casually—did she not care at all?
"The fifteenth!" Mu Liang's voice was cold and icy as he stared into her eyes, desperate to see a trace of grief or despair. He was shocked to find only calmness.
Her eyes slightly downcast, her pale complexion hinted at ill health, a stark contrast to how flushed she had been beneath him the previous night, like a fleeting epiphyllum.
Was she really not ill?
