Blood spurted from Han Jing's body, instantly dyeing her light blue dress red. On her body, blood holes kept spraying blood outward incessantly. Her gaze was filled with despair and helplessness. He saw her mouth moving, seemingly talking to him, but he couldn't hear clearly.
He saw tears sliding down her cheeks, along with her slowly closing eyes.
By the time he had frantically rushed over, she was already down; blood slowly spread across the ground, everywhere.
His hands trembled, shaking so much that he almost couldn't extend them to touch her body. He suddenly knelt down in front of her; his heart felt as if a huge wound had been gouged open, relentlessly gushing blood.
No, don't, don't...
It can't be, it certainly can't be...
He didn't dare reach out to touch her. He was afraid, afraid that what he would touch would be real blood, afraid he could feel her cooling body temperature...
