After getting in the car, Yun Qiluo remained very quiet, unusually so.
Yan Yan wrapped her in his arms, gazing at her pale little face, his eyes deep, concealing an almost imperceptible heartache.
Unconsciously, he reached out to touch the bruised marks on her wrist.
He asked in a low voice, "Does it hurt?"
Yun Qiluo shook her head, then spoke softly, "A little bit."
Yan Yan recalled what he'd just seen in the room, handcuffs scattered all over the floor, all deformed.
One could imagine how much force she must have used while struggling then.
He couldn't help but hold her even tighter.
With his chin resting on her small shoulder, his lashes drooped slightly, and his lazy gaze fell on her tiny hand.
In a place Yun Qiluo couldn't see, his half-closed eyes harbored boundless danger and aggression.
Like a dangerous serpent lurking in the darkness.
Along the way, Yun Qiluo hardly made a sound.
