When Dongfang arrived, Shen Li was standing under the garden's pathway light, her expression calm and casual.
There seemed to be dirt on her light-colored cocktail dress, and her hair was a bit disheveled, as if she had taken a fall.
But as he approached, the fresh blood on Shen Li's light-colored cocktail dress was glaringly obvious.
The stark red blood, with its pungent, metallic smell, was smeared on her arms and chest in copious amounts.
"What happened?" Dongfang was immediately shocked and concerned.
Shen Li's face remained composed as she took the coat from Dongfang's hands and put it on, saying, "Keep it down, it's not my blood. Get me out of here first."
Dongfang, looking at Shen Li's calm face, said with a touch of surprise, "You really are composed."
Getting covered in blood was routine for him, but for Shen Li, it should've been something to scream and panic about.
Yet, she was even more composed than himself.
