Blood trickled down the corner of Qing Jue's lips, the blood strands contrasting with her skin as radiant as jade, strikingly eye-catching, and the slap mark on her face instantly became clear.
Qing Jue didn't move; she didn't even raise her hand to touch her face.
Does it hurt? Of course, it hurts.
This should be the first slap she has received from childhood to adulthood. Han Litong has never hit her before; this is the first time.
Indeed, this slap is what she deserves, she has nothing to say.
