Baili An was extremely displeased with her attitude, which was exactly like that of the benefactors in storybooks who reneged on their debts after freeloading.
"Is that so?" His gaze lowered, he said, "How convenient for you to get hurt, your blood staining my clothes, and you claim to know nothing of it?"
Ning Feiyan's icy composure rapidly flushed a deep red, as fiery as the dawn sky, filled with both anger and annoyance, like being slapped by her own hand.
Just a moment ago, she had boasted that the number of men she'd toyed with, if not a thousand, was at least eight hundred. Now, she'd indirectly exposed that she'd surrendered something she'd preserved for thousands of years to him.
Ning Feiyan, full of regret, kicked towards Baili An beneath her: "I should have let you starve to death, you scoundrel. I must have been crazy to even think of feeding you my blood."
Baili An hurriedly grabbed her ankle, still haunted by the injury Fang Geyu had inflicted on him last time.
