"There's really blood, how can there be blood!"
The housekeeper turned around and looked towards Mr. Sheng, "Mr. Sheng, are you injured?"
Could it be that Mr. Sheng had lost his temper so badly just now, smashing so many things in a rage, and injured himself?
Mr. Sheng's eyebrows knit slightly, his gaze as somber as water, fixed on the ceramic shards in the servant's hand, he slowly walked over.
He wasn't injured, so whose blood could it be... Gu Lanshan?
Seeing the spattered bloodstains on the carpet, Mr. Sheng's eyes suddenly deepened; he remembered how, in his rage, he had flung her disheveled from the bed—could it have been then that he injured her?
So much blood on the ground, the ceramic pieces seemed to have pierced quite deeply...
Just how seriously was she hurt?
