Her voice began to tremble.
"How did he get here?!"
The last few words were practically forced out, sharp and hoarse, as though someone had seized her by the throat.
Yan Hui, equally horrified, was in no better shape.
When he climbed off Bao Xiaoqin, his legs could barely support him.
The Carefree Pill's effects were still surging through his body, turning his mind into a pot of boiling porridge—murky, scalding, utterly incapable of normal thought.
Only when his bare feet touched the icy ground did he barely regain a shred of clarity.
He lowered his head and looked at himself—his body was covered in a woman's lip marks.
They stretched from his neck all the way to his lower abdomen. Some were pale pink, others a deep crimson, as though someone had painted a map across his body with cinnabar.
His body was covered in Bao Xiaoqin's scratch marks, one after another. Some had already scabbed over, while others still seeped blood. His back burned with pain, as if he had been clawed by a cat.
At first glance, there was not the slightest hint of beauty.
It was even unbearable to look at.
This was the power of the Carefree Pill—it made people lose their reason in the height of pleasure, turning them into beasts driven by desire.
They knew only how to take, never how to restrain themselves, until both they and their partner were battered and bruised all over.
Yan Hui's gaze passed over Bao Xiaoqin's shoulder and fixed firmly on the woman in the courtyard.
His eyes narrowed.
He completely ignored Hu Yulou.
Though that man's hand still rested on the shattered stone table, though he could draw the sword at his waist with a mere reach—Yan Hui's gaze had never paused on him for