At this moment, Rong Nian's skin, set off by the black homewear, seemed to glow.
Jiang Xi glanced only once before her eyes recoiled from the heat, and she shyly said, "The light is too dim, I can't see clearly."
Rong Nian did not turn on the light; perhaps he wanted to use the dim lighting to conceal something.
He grabbed Jiang Xi's hand, pried her fingers open, and guided her hand to touch his chest.
Rong Nian's body temperature was very high; the heat transmitted from his fingertips was scalding.
Jiang Xi's fingertips trembled, "You..."
Suddenly, underneath her fingertips, she touched something different from the surrounding skin; Jiang Xi, out of curiosity, felt it more carefully.
The texture was indeed different; it was like a scar left after an injury had healed—the bullet wound that Rong Nian had mentioned.
About the size of a thumb, and just above the heart—if it had been an inch off, the bullet would have taken his life.