When Fu Chenlie's icy, bloodthirsty eyes met hers, Wen Ran surprisingly didn't feel scared.
Instead of fearing what he might do to her, a much clearer concern sprouted in her mind—
worry.
She worried about the severity of his injury.
She worried if she might have accidentally killed someone?!
Without hesitation, Wen Ran stood up from the bed and reached for his arm to examine the wound on his head.
But before she even touched his hair, she was thrown back once more.
Dizzy, once the feeling subsided, she propped herself up on the bed, turning her head towards Fu Chenlie, "You're bleeding, I... I want to see if the wound is deep, otherwise, shall I take you to the hospital?"
He glanced at her contemptuously, "What are you trying to gain with that pretense of concern? Afraid I'll retaliate against you?"
"No, I'm worried about you."
"Worried?"
The man scoffed disdainfully, "When you were hitting me with that object, why weren't you worried then?"