The moment the wedding sedan swayed, I crushed the blood scab on my palms.
His nails dug deeply into the old wounds caused by the iron chains in his previous life, and the smell of blood mixed with the fragrance of rouge filled the sedan. Through the gap in my hijab, I saw my fingertips stained with impatiens juice—these hands had made medicine and served tea for that beast Lu Mingyu, but were finally pressed into the hot medicine stove by his own hands.
