Mu Yiliang's hand unknowingly began to tremble. Clearly, she knew she needed only to plunge the knife down, but why did her hand start to shake, her strength wane, and she just couldn't stab down?
Because of her tremor, the knife tip had already pierced his skin, with crimson blood seeping out.
That touch of red seemed to sting her at once. She suddenly stood up, the fruit knife in her hand clattering to the floor!
Her face turned deathly pale immediately!
It was over. The perfect opportunity — not only did she fail to seize it, but she also completely lost her chance to strike!
Upon hearing the noise, Yan Sijue finally moved. He propped himself up, sat up, glanced at the fruit knife on the ground, then at her ashen face. His gaze was deep and dark, as if devoid of any emotions.
After a moment, he suddenly chuckled softly.
He leaned down to pick up the fruit knife, placing it on the bedside table nearby, then embraced Mu Yiliang.
