Inside the study, a man sat against the sofa, wearing a black shirt that looked somewhat darkened at the front, obviously soaked in blood—something Song Qiao was very aware of as the initial reason she noticed his injury.
Looking up further, at the moment she caught a clear glimpse of the man, Song Qiao almost froze, as if momentarily losing her reaction completely.
The man's face was like a piece of art meticulously sculpted by the heavens; with distinct, sharp features and a handsome, flawless face.
The man's appearance seemed somewhat delicate, but he exuded a bone-deep chill that prevented anyone from underestimating him. His black, dense hair was somewhat disheveled on his head, and his complexion was pale due to excessive blood loss, yet this did not hinder his handsomeness in the slightest.
This was a mixed-race person, this was the only thing Song Qiao was certain of.
