Mu Qian lowered his head, nuzzling his affection into her soft hair, "I promise, there won't be a next time, no more, no more..."
He repeated these words over and over, holding her body tightly in his arms.
Wen Jiaren cried even harder, and it took a long time before she ceased her sobs, after which she made no sound at all.
She lifted one hand to push him away; her other hand had been twisted and broken, swollen so badly she couldn't flex it.
Then, she propped herself up on the edge of the bathtub and tried to stand, but her legs gave out and she fell straight down. She tightly closed her eyes, anticipating the piercing pain, but it didn't come for a long time.
A strong arm caught her waist, slowly seating her back into the bathtub.
The man's deep, dry voice sounded again, "Don't move, you're not clean yet."
Wen Jiaren opened her eyes; the pain from tearing her wound felt unbearable as she soaked in the hot water.
