Inside the cave, a strange atmosphere of blood and sensuality mingled with the deathly silence. Ling Qingzhu lay on the cold ground, covered in gravel and bloodstains, unable to move, her body still pressed beneath Mo Lin's "heavy" body without the slightest gap between them.
The man's breathing, body heat, and dense scent of blood constantly assaulted her senses. Her eyes were tightly shut, her long lashes trembling violently, her chest rising and falling with each breath. His blood stained her plain dress, sticky and warm, like a brand that reminded her of everything that had just happened—the humiliating intimacy, his "self-sacrificing" move to block the blade, the transfer of power, and this shameful entanglement.
She hated him! Hated this bastard who had defiled her purity! She wanted nothing more than to tear him into ten thousand pieces! But... the savage wound on his back, the scorching blood "gushing" from it, and that "faint" pulse were like invisible chains, binding the hand that held her killing blade.
He had "saved" her, risking his life. How could she bring herself to strike? Kill someone who had "sacrificed himself" to save her? Even if he was the culprit, the source of all evil!
Confusion, contradiction, humiliation, fury, bewilderment, and a trace of heart-fluttering... pity? Feelings she refused even to acknowledge twisted into a tangled mess within her icy heart. Never before had she felt so conflicted, so utterly unsettled.
Just then, she felt the "unconscious" man's breathing at her neck grow a little more hurried. Then, as if from "intense pain," he unconsciously rubbed against the side of her neck. His warm breath brushed over her sensitive skin, making her whole body shudder as she nearly cried out.
She abruptly opened her eyes and met Mo Lin's slightly opened, deep black eyes,