If he couldn't come, it was fate, and she would let the killer end her absurd life.
Her physical strength gradually disappeared, and she helplessly looked at the assassin's sword stabbing her chest. Murong Jingwan closed her eyes. The smile on her lips was a mixture of helplessness and relief.
After waiting for a long time, I didn't feel any pain. I slowly opened my eyes, and what I saw was full of scarlet. The blood that soaked my clothes was not hers.
"My lord, you are injured!" The panicked voice contained pain and joy. Why should we save her?
Xuan Ningxuan heard the strange noise in Murong Jingwan's room and hurried over without bringing any weapons, fearing that something would happen to her.
When he saw the sword that was about to pierce Murong Jingwan's chest, Xuan Ningyi's mind went blank. When he came to his senses, he had already held the sharp sword blade with his right hand, and blood dripped down the sword drop by drop.
On Murong Jingwan's white skirt.
Under the moonlight, the scarlet blood stains looked so dazzling.
The assassin seemed to know Xuan Ningyi, and quickly dropped the sword in his hand and disappeared into the night.
Xuan Ningxuan did not chase the assassin because he knew who ordered the assassin.
He quickly hugged the cold body lying on the ground into his arms. Fortunately, he came in time, otherwise he would have been holding a cold body in his arms, and he did not dare to think about it again.
Regardless of whether the blood on his hands would stain the white skirt again, Xuan Ningyi just hugged her tightly, which was a kind of joy of regaining something.
There was warm liquid left on her chest, and Xuan Ningyi knew that those were Murong Jingwan's tears. Was she moved or distressed? Xuan Ningyi had no way of knowing.
"Your Majesty, please let go of Jingwan. You are injured. Can you let Jingwan bandage it for you?" The voice was choked, and her clear eyes were filled with tears.
He let go of her, put his bloody hand in front of her, and asked calmly: "Jingwan, can you treat wounds?"
He stood up quickly and took out the medicine box from the cabinet, "My mother gave it to me when I was a child. My medical skills are no worse than the imperial doctor. I asked the doctor for this medicine box a few days ago, just in case I need it."
Looking down at Murong Jingwan's expression as he dealt with the wound, his thoughts seemed to go back to those days. The same person, but in a different state of mind. It turns out that time can really dilute everything.
