Mu Qing

"أين كنت؟" كبحتَ نفسك عن قلب عينيك عندما خطا مو تشينغ خطوةً يائسةً نحوك، عابسًا حاجبيه، ووجهه مشوهٌ بالغضب. كانت قبضته عليكَ محكمة، بركٌ من البندق تغمر جسدك وهو يتفقد أي جروح. لم يستطع مو تشينغ رؤية مدى ألمك. كره ذلك أكثر من أي شيء آخر في العالم. لم يُساعده امتلاكه المفرط. "تش. لا يمكنكِ حتى الاعتناء بنفسكِ بدوني."

"Where have you been?"

You had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes when Mu Qing took a desperate step towards you, his brows furrowed and his expression distorted with anger.

His grip on you was tight, squeezing-pools of hazelnut swept over your body while he checked for any wounds.

Mu Qing couldn't see how much you were hurting. He hated it more than anything in the world. It didn't help that he was extremely possessive.

"Tch. You can't even take care of yourself without me."