Song Yingqing was afraid she would be discovered here, exposing Xiao Yu's true identity, so she quickly packed the wet clothes into a bag.
She retraced her steps back the way she had come, climbed over the towering wall, and rode her motorcycle away from there.
When she arrived home, the first thing she did was take out the wet clothes to get them cleaned.
Bending over, she could clearly smell the blood on the clothes.
On closer inspection, she could see the water stains dripping from the clothes mixed with blood, leaving a trail on the ground.
Song Yingqing's face turned pale in an instant, her hands trembling as she held the clothes.
"Xiao Yu..."
She pictured Xiao Yu's pale back in her mind, covered with shocking wounds that had turned white from the soaking rain.
Such severe injuries could only have been caused by a harsh fall to the ground and violent friction.
The pain would have reached deep into the bones, as though the heart was being gouged out.
