Chasing Shadow didn't utter a word, but Mu Qianya winced from the pain.
The man's strength was excessive — he pinched the scraped wound on her hand so firmly that the scab that had formed started to bleed again.
Chasing Shadow felt something sticky in his palm; when he released his grip, he saw that he had damaged the wound on Mu Qianya's wrist.
But Mu Qianya took advantage of his distraction and immediately stuffed a pill into his mouth, covering his mouth with her hand and whispering, "Don't spit it out. Swallow it. There's only one pill; don't waste it."
She saw Chasing Shadow's throat move, a sweet feeling emerged in her heart, and she was happy when he pushed her hand away.
Feng Ling hurriedly took out a handkerchief to cover the wound, muttering, "We've been locked up for days, the handkerchief is dirty and unwashable. I don't know if Miss's wound will get infected. It's all his fault!"
