"How are you feeling?"
A few minutes later, a group of black-clad men came upstairs. After respectfully nodding toward Xie Qikan, they efficiently cleared out all the assailants in the room, even meticulously cleaning the space, leaving no trace behind.
Once everyone had left, Xie Qikan turned to look at Yuan Xiaoxiao. His deep, dark eyes struggled to suppress a boundless sea of longing and concern, trying to keep his gaze composed. He then feigned nonchalance and casually asked her a question.
Xie Qikan lightly pressed his thin lips together, his chiseled, almost godlike features bearing an air of deliberate calm.
The atmosphere in the room had grown somewhat strange, even tinged with ambiguity. Both of them seemed slightly uneasy, avoiding each other's gazes and consciously looking elsewhere.
"Qikan, you're hurt!"
