In the darkened room, the thin, cold gleam of the scalpel pierced through the air and stung Nalan Ye Jue's eyes.
"Little Madam..."
He spoke deeply, clasping her wrist with his large hand.
The woman was somewhat at a loss, seemingly not expecting him to wake up halfway through, pressing her lips tightly together, unable to utter a single word.
Nalan Ye Jue took a deep breath, his heart aching dully as he defended her, "Little Madam is feeling down, so you wanted to cut your wrist on impulse?"
Even though the knife was placed on his wrist, not hers.
Qin Xin slowly, slowly nodded.
Nalan Ye Jue's throat swelled with a tinge of bitterness.
His grip involuntarily tightened.
Qin Xin let out a soft sound.
He immediately loosened his hold a little; her wrists were so slender that applying a bit more force might break them, and he had to control himself.
