"What are you doing?" Zheng Nianru could tell by the look in Ju Nanyi's eyes that he meant business. Before Ju Nanyi had a chance to reach out, a fist had already landed on his body, "Ju Nanyi, you traitor, you ..."
Even if the girl's punch was light, Ju Nanyi's left shoulder was injured, and even a light punch caused a sharp pain. Ju couldnary within did not have the heart, but he knew it was not the time to hesitate.
"Don't move—" Ju Nanyi's voice was lower, carrying a coaxing tone he hadn't noticed himself—it was only the tone that was gentle; his movements were swift, fierce, and precise.
"Ugh—" Zheng Nianru turned her head away, her stomach already churning violently, and at that moment, she vomited until she was completely empty. When she turned back to face him, her eyes were teary and filled with grievance, displaying a distress that seemed maximized.
It pained Ju Nanyi inside, as if he could feel her distress, trivializing the wound on his own left shoulder.
