Ou Yimo dropped the gun on the spot, collapsed to the ground, and murmured incessantly, "I've killed someone, I've killed someone, Azhan, what do I do? I've killed someone..."
"Yimo..." Zhan Nanjue seemed momentarily stunned, his eyes fixed on her injured hand.
"What do I do? I've killed someone."
"Yimo... your hand..."
Only then did Ou Yimo finally look at her left hand. Her left hand was still pinned by a wooden stake, scarlet blood soaking the ground.
Zhan Nanjue pried the wooden stake off her hand, discovering her hand bones were shattered.
"Azhan, what do I do? I'm so scared... my hand... it seems to have no feeling..."
"Don't be afraid, I'm here." Zhan Nanjue's pupils contracted tightly. The injury on her hand was no joke; it was likely she would lose use of that hand for life.
Ou Yimo asked distractedly, "Does this mean I won't be able to play the piano anymore?"
"No, it won't," he said.
