In their past life, Mu Lianxiao had quite a few wounds.
Knife wounds, arrow wounds, and some that Du Yunluo couldn't identify.
Every time he returned to the Capital, most of his wounds had mostly healed, but he was still left with frightening scars, and touching them with her fingertips made her heart anxious.
Even the most resilient skin and flesh couldn't withstand such injuries.
When held in Mu Lianxiao's embrace, as her palm brushed over those wounds, Du Yunluo couldn't help but frown.
It was truly terrifying.
Scars that had healed looked like that; she could hardly imagine how he looked when he was freshly wounded.
Du Yunluo was angry at the abundance of his scars, knowing that they looked frightening but didn't actually hurt, so she often pinched them.
As she pinched them, tears would fall gently, as if she saw fresh blood surging forth.
Fear, an intense fear from deep within.
Blades and arrows show no mercy; a single wound could take a life.
