She grabbed Song Ze's shoulder, her hand landing exactly on his wound, her nails digging into his flesh, causing the previously staunched blood to flow again.
White fingers, red blood, a picturesque figure, combined to form a beautiful oil painting.
The intense colors made one's heart tremble.
Just a second before their lips could touch, Song Ze forcefully pushed Gu Yan away.
He showed no tenderness, as Gu Yan hit a chair behind her, tripped, and fell to the ground.
Pain emanated from her heel, probably sprained. Gu Yan could not muster the strength to stand up.
She sat there on the ground, tears in her eyes, her head slightly tilted back, creating a very soft and delicate image.
If it were another man, he would have already helped her up with pity, but Song Ze was not among them.
People like him, with hearts of stone, rarely showed tenderness, and the little that remained was definitely not for Gu Yan.
