Mo Zhixuan, radiating an icy chill, pulled Chu Jin into the living room.
Chu Jin could clearly feel that the coldness emanating from him had intensified significantly compared to before. His hand was like a chunk of ice, bone-chillingly cold as if it could freeze over at any moment. The pulse that was once strong and vigorous had become much weaker, beating slowly and faintly as if gradually being encased in ice. It was erratic, not like a normal person's pulse at all, and very strange.
Chu Jin's brows rose in challenge, and she took his pulse with a deft move of her hand, squinting her eyes as she focused on the examination.
Mo Zhixuan did not struggle; instead, he just watched her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely discernible curve.