His eyes were pitch-black, unfathomably deep, devoid of any warmth, harboring only an indissoluble coldness.
Despite Si Fuqing's certainty that he could not see her, his gaze inexplicably made her feel as though he could see everything.
She waved her hand in front of the youth's face and then reached out to touch his hair.
The youth's eyelashes trembled slightly, and the aura around him suddenly sharpened.
He swiftly got up, completely disregarding the wounds on his body, and attempted to leave the palace.
Si Fuqing pressed him back down without hesitation, forcibly covering him with the blanket.
After searching the palace for a while, she found a box of silver needles. After sterilizing them, she began to stitch up his wounds.
A look of astonishment briefly crossed the youth's usually impassive face, quickly turning into cold fury as he struggled with all his might.
But he could not break free.