Upon hearing this, Meng Zhao immediately understood the reason for Shen Qinghe's crazy behavior just now. After not receiving a response for a long time, Shen Qinghe finally raised his head from Meng Zhao's neck.
The night was deep, and the two were in the shadows of a corner. He couldn't see Meng Zhao's expression, but his intuition told him that she must be extremely angry at that moment.
This realization made Shen Qing's heart clench. She unconsciously moved away slightly from Meng Zhao's body, who was pressed tightly against her. Feeling the restraint loosen, Meng Zhao turned around and left without saying a word.
Shen Qing's heart tightened, and she subconsciously reached out to grab her wrist. Meng Zhao could not bear it any longer and slapped her across the face with her other hand.
The sharp "slap" was particularly clear in the quiet night. Shen Qinghe turned his head to the side from the slap, but his body did not move. Meng Zhao tried to pull his hand back, but found that he was still holding his wrist tightly.
"You still haven't promised me," Shen Qinghe's voice was hoarse, "don't go to Jiangnan, okay?"
Meng Zhao took a deep breath and suddenly kicked him hard. This time she used all her strength. Shen Qinghe fell backward. Just as Meng Zhao was about to be pulled down by him, he finally let go and fell heavily to the corner of the wall. Then he burst into a heart-wrenching cough, as if he was coughing up his internal organs.
Meng Zhao ignored the trembling hand that tried to grab her skirt, turned around, walked through the corridor, and returned to her room. She slammed the door shut, leaned against it, and the scene from earlier flashed through her mind. Her chest heaved violently, and she was breathing so rapidly that she could hardly breathe.
She subconsciously raised her sleeve to wipe her still stinging lips, but caught a glimpse of the mottled dark red bloodstains on her cuff in the moonlight. Her brows furrowed, and she trembled as she spread out her hands. Her palms were already stained a hideous deep red with dried blood, which looked particularly glaring in the bright moonlight.
Meanwhile, in the corner of the courtyard, Shen Qinghe slumped helplessly against the cold wall. The moonlight outlined his slender figure, and large patches of dark bloodstains stained his clothes. He stared blankly at the empty courtyard, his handsome face ashen and lifeless.
A night breeze swept by, carrying a few fallen, withered leaves that landed on him, but he was too weak to brush them away. The distant sound of the night watchman's clapper was particularly clear in the quiet night. Shen Qinghe slowly closed his eyes, a bead of cold sweat sliding down his pale cheek. All the pain reminded him that this time, he had truly messed everything up.
Just as Shen Qinghe was curled up in the corner as if his soul had been ripped away, mocking himself as nothing more than a stray dog abandoned by its master, a slow but clear sound of footsteps suddenly came from the quiet courtyard.
He suddenly opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the sound. In the hazy moonlight, he saw Meng Zhao slowly walking towards him, holding a lantern. The dim candlelight cast a soft halo around her, making her look like a fairy descended from heaven.
Meng Zhao pushed the lantern forward, and by the flickering candlelight, she could see Shen Qinghe's appearance clearly. His clothes at the shoulders were already soaked with blood, his handsome face was mottled with bloodstains, and several disheveled marks were washed away by tears. His deep eyes were now completely red, but they burst forth with an almost devout light the moment he saw her.
His body, which had been limp and powerless just moments before, suddenly straightened up. Trembling, he grabbed Meng Zhao's skirt, looked up, and asked in a hoarse voice, "Will you leave? Will you...leave me?"
Meng Zhao finally realized that the depth of this man's obsession was far beyond her comprehension. She frowned, her gaze falling on the shocking bloodstain on his shoulder, and said coldly, "Even if you want to die, don't die in my yard." With that, she turned to leave.
She had only taken a few steps when she suddenly stopped, turned around, and said in an unfriendly tone, "What are you standing there for? Come on."
Upon hearing this, a glimmer of hope instantly ignited in Shen Qinghe's ashen eyes, and he seemed to come back to life as if a withered tree had been revived in spring. He struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall, and staggered to catch up with Meng Zhao's steps. The two of them went to her study one after the other.
After entering the room, Meng Zhao lit the candlesticks, had Shen Qinghe sit in a chair, and then turned and went out. A short while later, she returned with a charcoal brazier and a basin of water. Seeing Shen Qinghe still sitting there blankly, she took a deep breath and, suppressing her anger, said, "Take off your clothes."
As Meng Zhao placed the basin on the shelf, soaked her handkerchief, and turned around, she was struck dumb. "Shen Qinghe, what's wrong with you now!"
In the dim candlelight, Shen Qinghe's outer robe had slipped to the ground, and his inner garment had also been removed, revealing his well-defined chest and slender waist. Two wounds on his right shoulder had congealed into dark red scabs, which were particularly glaring against his jade-like skin. What angered her even more was that this man's underpants were even hanging loosely on his hips, and his long legs were faintly visible in the interplay of light and shadow.
Shen Qing blinked upon hearing this, her thick eyelashes casting a shadow beneath her eyes. "Didn't you tell me... to take off my clothes?" Her voice was soft, tinged with a hint of grievance.
Meng Zhao gritted her teeth, the veins on the back of her hand gripping the handkerchief bulging. She forced out each word through gritted teeth: "I...made...you...expose...your...wounds!"
Shen Qing blinked her wet eyes and nodded innocently. She was about to bend down to pick up her slipped clothes when she accidentally aggravated the wound on her shoulder. She groaned in pain, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.
Seeing this, Meng Zhao suppressed her anger and stepped forward to help. She roughly grabbed his undergarment and put it on him, but then heard Shen Qinghe let out another suppressed cry of pain.
"What is it now?!" Meng Zhao practically spat out those words through gritted teeth.
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