Feng Ruoxi tried to reply, but her throat was parched dry. Jiang Yukang quickly stood up and brought her a glass of water. After taking a few gulps, she murmured, "Thank you."
"For what?" Jiang Yukang questioned, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.
"I almost died," Feng Ruoxi breathed, her voice laced with a strange mixture of gratitude and trepidation.
Jiang Yukang's lips twisted into a wry smile, his eyes glittering with an indecipherable emotion. "I see no reason for thanking your husband for doing his job."
An uneasy silence settled over the room as Feng Ruoxi fell quiet, her gaze flickering away from Jiang Yukang's scrutinizing stare.
"Tell me, my dear wife," he murmured, his deep voice laced with threads of iron and steel, "who exactly are you? The meek, bullied, rebellious Feng Ruoxi I picked out of all the Feng women would not have come home with a gunshot wound in her abdomen and with the stench of blood all over."