Mo Tingshen pushed open the door with one hand, gripping the doorknob tightly, yet despite his urgency, he didn't make a sound.
When he left, he only left the floor lamp by the door on; now the warm light of the bedside lamp was on, spreading down and covering the bed.
There was a scent of blood in the air.
Not like before, but fresh.
Chu Yao was sitting up against the headboard, her face pale as she looked at a fruit knife in her hand.
"Xiao Yao!"
Mo Tingshen strode over.
"Brother—"
Chu Yao's body shook slightly, as if she had pulled at her wound, wincing in pain, but when she saw him, she smiled, "You scared me."
Mo Tingshen's breathing eased a bit, and his steps slowed as he moved to sit by the bed. He didn't stare directly but glanced lightly at the knife in her hand with his peripheral vision.
"When did you wake up?"
"Just now."
Chu Yao shifted, leaning toward him.
Mo Tingshen moved closer as well.
Chu Yao: "Hug me."
