Reaching behind, she endured the pain to get out of bed, gently pressing around the wound, feeling distinctly that all the shrapnel inside had been dealt with.
Was it him who had treated her wound?
She supported her shoulder as she pulled open the door and walked out, into the empty and eerily quiet house.
Biting her lip, she called out, "Xiao Chen."
After a long while, there was not a single response. Lan Yue turned back into the room, went to the wardrobe to randomly pick a pair of pants, and then tucked her shirt into the pants.
His pants were too long; Lan Yue bent over with difficulty and rolled up the cuffs.
Due to the pain in her back, her forehead was covered in a thick layer of sweat.
Lan Yue gritted her teeth, adjusted her clothes, and, supporting herself on the banister, walked down the stairs.
Standing in the downstairs living room, she took one last look back.
The air seemed to still faintly carry his scent.
