Gong Shirao's cheeks were slightly red as she handed him the pills, "Quick, take the medicine first."
Zhan Nanjue took the pills and swallowed them in one gulp, then picked up the cup of water she handed over and drank it all.
Gong Shirao instinctively reached up to touch her hair and felt a flower, her heart pounded.
The two of them didn't know that not far away, Ou Yimo was tightly gripping a rose, its thorns piercing her palm, but she seemed to feel no pain.
Bright red blood dripped down the stem onto the rose petals, and there seemed to be a burning fire in Ou Yimo's eyes.
With force, she spat out a few words filled with hatred, "Gong, Shi, Rao!"
A drop of blood fell onto the tip of her shoe, her face as pale as a ghost.
She couldn't be the only one who was unfortunate. She couldn't... absolutely couldn't be the only one unfortunate!!
Ou Yimo lowered her head, opened her palm to look at the blood, and slowly bit out the thorns with her lips.
