The blood on the floor was his own.
I watched Huo Yuntian's pair of shiny leather shoes run over the back of my hand, and heard the crack of the joints, like the sound of my father's medicine bowl being crushed when I was a child. The marble floor was bitingly cold, and I knelt in the center of the Huo family hall. There were more than a dozen members of the Huo family sitting around me, and no one spoke.
It was so quiet that only Huo Yuntian's sneer remained.
"Trash, you can't even wipe the floor clean."
He spat, and the saliva fell on the back of my hand, mixing with blood and dripping down. I raised my head to say something, and out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Huo Rujing sitting in the main seat - she was looking down at her phone without even frowning, as if everything happening in front of her had nothing to do with her.
