Lan Qingchuan did not die. When she woke up, it was dark and there was no light at all.

She had heard the gunshots. Gong Nanmu is cold and resolute, he has long hated himself, and he can't wait to cut the grass and eradicate the roots. When she was still the Chu Li who knew everything, she could feel the undisguised murderous aura in the eyes of this ghost-faced man.

Gong Nanmu shoots and never misses. He holds the gun with the same precision as he holds a scalpel.

She sat up against the cold wall, and she couldn't feel anything around her, only the damp cold. She sat in the dark, her mood fluctuating, and now she was at peace.

She didn't know what was going on. But given the current situation, her death may have been delayed only slightly.

After being locked in this cramped secret room with no exit for a long time, maybe two days or three days, Lan Qingchuan couldn't remember clearly, the severe dehydration and hunger made her not even have the strength to lift her eyelids.

That's the way to torture people.

It's just that she died like this, she was unwilling and died in the hands of Miyachi Ruo.

By the time the sun rose on the third day, when Lan Qingchuan was carried out of the secret room, he was already described as haggard and dull, and his breathing was shallow.

When she woke up again, the first thing she saw was Gong Nanmu, staring at her with hideous eyes.

His eyes were the suppressed viciousness that Lan Qingchuan had never seen before.

This is Delin Garden, the familiar room she lives in. She lay on a sunken wooden bed covered with brocade, her whole body weak.

Gong Nanmu smiled grimly, "Your life is big enough, and I haven't been able to kill you after being locked up for so long." ”

Lan Qingchuan closed his eyes.

It didn't take long for her to meet Miyachi Ruo.

The familiar room, the unchanged arrangement, the heavy smell wafted in the air.

Gong Chiruo was injured, leaning on the rosewood couch by the window, his face was gloomy, and when he saw her coming, his eyebrows sank a little.

There was also Gong Shu in the room, and after she arrived, she retreated outside the screen with Gong Nanmu.

Lan Qingchuan looked at his wound, which was wounded on his left shoulder, wrapped in layers of bandages. The exposed skin is like lifeless white porcelain, cold, even gray.

He looked at her carefully, and suddenly sneered, "This is made by Gong Nanmu?" ”

Lan Qingchuan was locked in the secret room for three days, emaciated and thin, and when he walked in just now, his steps were empty, obviously he came by force.

What he hates most is her stubbornness and determination. For him, Lan Qingchuan will not have a gentle and obedient appearance, only a thin and hard hatred.

The woman looked at him silently, and there was nothing in her pale eyes, just like her bloodless and cold face.

"Are you going to kill me again?" Her throat was hoarse.

Gong Chiruo suppressed his smile, his face showed a little pale anger, and he suddenly slammed the cup on the tea table, crackling, but not a single fragment fell to her feet.

This movement naturally made the people outside hear it, and no one moved, so a snowball ran in and screamed in fright.

"If you want to go, then let's go." The wound he pulled was relieved for a long time, and he said with difficulty.

"Lan Qingchuan, let's go."

The moment he closed his eyes, Lan Qingchuan had already turned around. He gritted his teeth all at once, and the pain in his body was unspeakable.

He hated Lan Qingchuan the most, he hated it to the extreme, hated it to the extreme, but he couldn't let go of it, and he couldn't give it up.

She was cold, hard as a piece of ice, hated him, and hated him the most.