“My blood isn’t tasty.”
“Of course not!”
Cao Er stood up and took the bowl away, saying, “Who would drink your blood!”
Seeing her place the bowl by the window, Cao Er stepped forward and wrapped the three-finger-long cut with a simple cloth bandage, telling Xi Fuhong not to move around.
If she opened the wound and bled to death, no one would care.
Then she picked up the clay bowl and walked out of the wooden house.
The room returned to silence, and Xi Fuhong closed her eyes, panting slightly.
She felt that her emotions had been too...
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