In the hospital room, Mu Anran curled up barefoot on the bed, with tears pattering down.
"Yu Lingqian, you really are a bastard!"
"Ring, ring, ring—"
The phone on the bedside table rang again, it was a call from Ling Li.
Mu Anran composed herself and wiped her tears, "Hello, Brother Ling?"
Ling Li's voice carried fatigue, "Mumu, how are your injuries?"
"I'm fine, just some bruises, not even worth mentioning as external injuries. But what about you, are you feeling any better? I was terrified when I saw you covered in blood that day."
Ling Li paused for a moment.
That day when Yu Lingqian hobbled out of the fire, his blood had stained Mu Anran's clothes red.
And the blood on his own body must have come from that moment as well.
"I... I'm fine." Ling Li coughed lightly, "Are you free right now? There are some things I want to talk to you about."
His voice was somewhat restrained and even carried a hint of nervousness.