The temperature in the pitch-black room was as low as cold autumn. A small hill was raised on the huge bed. The person wrapped in the quilt was already unconscious. He kept breathing hot air from his mouth. His clothes were soaked with thin sweat, and his porcelain white skin was stained. Deep red.
The knock on the door rang again, and Roven Lu, who was in a state of torture, ignored it.
"Roven Lu, I can help you."
When Roven Lu, who was in a daze, heard what Mason Si said, he bit the tip of his tongue hard and tried his best to stay awake.
"No...no need." The voice that came out was as thin and fragile as the murmur of a small animal.
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