Qiao Jing's eyebrows were closely furrowed as her gaze shifted to Zhan Qipei's lips. Her chest gently heaved once, her mind made up, she opened her red lips and bit down hard on the man's mouth.
"Hiss—"
A pained grunt came from the man's mouth, and his movements halted at that moment.
Qiao Jing gritted her teeth, and taking advantage of this moment, she pushed the man away vigorously, leaning against the wall and panting slightly.
The rising temperature between the two abruptly dropped, returning to normal.
Once Qiao Jing recovered, she saw where the man's lip was broken, tiny beads of blood oozing out, his proud chest heaving irregularly, fury burning in his eyes, and a chilling coldness at the bottom of them.
"Zhan Qipei, are you sick, or what!"
Zhan Qipei raised his hand, wiping the blood from his lips with his thumb. After the blood smeared into a red stain on his thin lips, he licked them, the sweet metallic taste gradually spreading in his mouth.