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He Yi had the dagger with her, but she couldn’t take it out no matter what.

How could she stab him again? ! This kind of torture was no less psychological than gentle physical torture.

“You...”He Yi was heartbroken. Two lines of tears rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed, “You’re torturing me on purpose!”

He Yirou reached out her hand and said, “Give it to me! I’ll do it myself!”

She couldn’t do it, so he could do it for her.

He Yirou turned around, afraid that she would change her mind if she looked at him one more time. She took out the dagger from her body and turned her head. She didn’t dare to look at He Yirou, so she handed the dagger to him.

After a long time, he Yirou didn’t hear anything. She mustered her courage and slowly turned her head. She almost screamed again.

She saw that gentle’s left wrist was cut open. Blood flowed like a fountain. Soon, a small meandering pool of blood gathered under his feet.