Just as she stood up and before she could walk away, Huo Jingting grabbed her wrist again.
It just so happened that the hand he grabbed was her injured left arm, and the blood trickling down stained her hand.
Gu Nanqiao looked at his injured hand, a twinge of pain clutched at her heart, "How did you get hurt?"
"I'll explain it to you later," Huo Jingting said in a hoarse voice, unable to hide his exhaustion.
They had more important matters at hand, there was no time to explain, and Si Ling was just one part of the complex matter involving Mo Feng.
Huo Jingting embraced her, disregarding the gunshot wound on his own left arm, "The person wasn't killed by me, the one who shot me is the real murderer."
He had killed people before, many of them, in that desperate battle where it was kill or be killed, only by ending others' lives could he save his own.
But now, in front of her, he didn't want to leave an impression of a murderer in her heart.
