Su Xinghui stumbled out of the glass door and rushed into the cool night breeze on the terrace.
The dazzling night scene of the bustling city unfolds before your eyes, and the lights of thousands of homes are like an inverted galaxy, cold and distant.
The huge floor-to-ceiling glass door closed silently behind her, isolating her from the warm lights, melodious music and inquiring gazes in the cocktail party, creating a relatively quiet but more empty and lonely space.
She leaned against the cold glass door, her body shaking uncontrollably from heavy gasping and silent sobbing.
The sharp pain from the palm of her left hand became extremely clear at this moment, mixed with the stickiness of champagne and the sweet smell of blood, constantly stimulating her nerves.
She raised her injured hand tremblingly and looked in the dim light of the floor lamp at the edge of the terrace.
His palm was a mess. Several tiny, sharp shards of glass were deeply embedded in his flesh, gleaming cruelly in the dim light.
The cut wound had its flesh turned inside out, and blood was gushing out, flowing down along the lines of the palm and dripping onto the ground.
The patio door was gently pushed open with a slight click.
Ye Fanshuang's figure appeared at the door.
She walked over quickly, her high heels making crisp sounds on the stone slabs, and squatted down in front of her.
Ye Fanshuang's gaze fell on Su Xinghui's bloody left hand, his brows tightly furrowed, and his tone was full of undisguised anxiety and heartache.
"Don't move!"
Su Xinghui did not respond, but just buried her head even lower, her shoulders twitching uncontrollably. Silent tears were like beads that had broken off the string, dripping onto her knees and soaking the velvet skirt.
Ye Fanshuang took out a clean silk handkerchief, carefully avoiding the glaring glass fragments, trying to suppress the blood that was constantly flowing out.
Her movements were gentle, completely different from her usual decisiveness.
"Xinghui," Ye Fanshuang's voice lowered, with a complex and all-knowing tone, "look at me."
Su Xinghui still stubbornly lowered her head, her long hair hanging down, covering her tear-stained face.
Ye Fanshuang sighed, pressed the edge of the wound with a handkerchief in one hand, and lifted Su Xinghui's chin with the other hand somewhat forcefully but not too hard, forcing her to look at him.
"It's because of Chao Youye, right?" Ye Fanshuang's voice was very soft, but it was like a key that directly opened the door that Su Xinghui tried desperately to lock.
"Back in junior high school...when we saw him, I felt like there was something wrong with the way you looked at him."
There was no mockery in her tone, only a hint of understanding and deep helplessness, "Look at the look in their eyes just now...even a fool would understand."
The moment the truth was revealed, Su Xinghui's body trembled violently, as if the last layer of fig leaf had been stripped off.
The huge sense of shame almost suffocated her. She turned her head away suddenly, trying to break free from Ye Fanshuang's hand, and a suppressed, broken sob came from her throat.
"Stop talking... please... stop talking..." Her voice was so hoarse, and every word was filled with blood and tears.
Ye Fanshuang refocused on the injured hand, carefully wiping the blood from the edge with a handkerchief, trying to see the condition of the fragments clearly.
"The most important thing now is to take care of your hand! You need to go to the hospital immediately. The glass went in too deep and may have damaged the nerves."
"No..." Su Xinghui shook her head violently, her long hair sticking messily to her tear-stained cheeks, her voice filled with a heavy nasal tone and an almost paranoid resistance.
"I don't want to go to the hospital... send me home... Ye Fanshuang, please... send me home..."
Now she just wanted to hide herself, hide in a place where no one knew her and no one could find her, and lick the sudden pain that was enough to crush her alone.
"Okay, I'll take you home."
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