Dawn broke.
In the room, Wei Tianyang had vanished without a trace.
Bare-skinned, Zhao Ling clutched her fractured left arm, struggling to sit up on the bed.
Bloodstains lingered around her lips, her long hair disheveled, covering her chest, with claw marks bleeding across her chest, abdomen, and back.
She didn't know how she had survived the night, but the intense pain and frantic impulses had mesmerized her.
She picked up her tattered dress from the floor beside the bed, laughed self-deprecatingly, stuffed the dress under the bed, and then walked into the bathroom.
The warm water washed away the blood and sticky filth. Even now, she could still feel the sensation and pain of Wei Tianyang's claws scratching her skin.
The pain in her left arm was severe, but Zhao Ling didn't mind. Instead, she relished the feeling of being broken. After showering, she walked naked to the wardrobe and picked out a set of white casual clothes to wear.
