The night was deep, and the moon threw a dappled, flickering light between the branches and leaves of the trees.
In the Western Depot.
The melodious cry gradually reduced.
Bedside, the two men were both sweating and gasping. One lay while the other sat.
Lu Qiange rested for a while, his cold eyes casting on Ming Lan.
A small whip came down, and the skin of his thin exposed chest had already turned a piece of bluish red. Tiny beads of blood oozed from all the overlapping whip marks.
However, while feeling the lacerating pain of the wound, the abnormal eunuch showed an expression of both pain and satisfaction on his pale and sweating face.
That extremely contradictory expression was noticed by Lu Qiange. At once, he felt his scalp tingling. Several layers of gooseflesh crept all over
