Lying in a pool of blood, Song Qing's lips were ashen, her radiant complexion devoid of any color. She was muttering something with her lips moving slightly, but Huo Yirong couldn't make out a word.
Suddenly, the scene before his eyes stopped abruptly, shattering into countless pieces like a complete mirror.
Huo Yirong's eyes cleared, and what he saw was a familiar room, just missing a figure.
He glared at the blood-stained bed in front of him with eyes full of hatred, a cold light flashing through his eyes, his whole body emitting a chilling murderous aura.
If before, he still held some pity for Song Qing, after recalling the blurry memories of last night, all that pity and fondness were swept away.
Song Qing, this woman, actually dared to scheme against him!
Huo Yirong was uncontrollably furious, his breathing grew heavy, and with a wicked curve to his lips, he said angrily, "Song, Qing! You're indeed well off!"