The pale-golden pill lay on the red carpet.
Both of them froze.
Song Yan's half-raised palm slowly lowered.
Her lovely eyes were wide with genuine shock.
The haughty tilt of her chin vanished as she stared at the pill in the broken bottle pieces.
Li Qingmu exhaled through his nose, dropped gracefully to one knee, and started gathering the broken pieces of the bottle into his palm with care.
His movements were sluggish and pitiful.
Song Yan's lips parted, but no sound came out.
A bit of guilt crossed her proud features.
She had struck harder than she intended again.
But the man she was starting to feel bad for grinned like a shameless fox internally.
