The Blind Dragon Chapter 10

Recently, Sebastian's household had been unusually quiet.

Most of the time, they stayed behind closed doors.

My sister-in-law occasionally sent me secret messages. She didn't seem to mind Sebastian and Elena's intimacy, and instead warned me to be careful.

Rain and I enjoyed our leisure.

We'd play chess and drink tea together each day.

I'd play the zither while she sang.

One day, Rain suddenly asked me, "What do you think a child born of a dragon and a mermaid would be like?"

I leaned closer, smiling at her. "Want to try?"

She shoved me away, but her cheeks flushed red.

Before Rain returned to her room, I told her, "You can wash off those scars on your face."

She turned back, startled. "When did you figure it out?"

"If you pay attention, you notice things."

I understood that in her precarious situation back then, beauty would have been a disaster.

Besides, Sebastian would never have allowed his plaything to become ugly.

She smiled knowingly, then suddenly leaned close to me, asking seriously, "So once I don't have scars, will I be beautiful?"

Light danced in her eyes. I couldn't help but nod.

Elena came to my estate late one night three days later.

The moment she removed her cloak, I barely recognized her.

She looked much older, her eye sockets sunken.

She knelt before me, crying miserably. "Adrian, please save me. I was wrong. I shouldn't have left you."

I fanned myself leisurely, asking coldly, "What's wrong, sister-in-law?"

She froze, then couldn't care about anything else. She yanked up her sleeve.

Her once smooth, delicate arm was covered in knife marks, dense and overlapping.

"Sebastian treats me like a blood bank, draining my blood every day for him to drink. I can't take it anymore. Adrian, for the sake of our past, only you can save me."

She sobbed uncontrollably.

I used the edge of my fan to lift her chin. "Doesn't sister-in-law want to know how my brother learned your blood was so precious?"

Her face instantly went white as paper.

In my past life, because of her weak spiritual power, she'd sat alone on the ritual boat until the very end.

After living with me, she'd often been mocked by others.

Unable to bear seeing her hurt, I'd used my own heart's blood to nourish her.

Day after day, without interruption.

I'd thought that one day, her blood would warm.

But I didn't understand until I died—someone who doesn't love you will always have a cold heart.