Quan's old lady was relieved to see her unharmed, then turned to look at Jian Qing. When her gaze fell on the blood stains on Jian's body, she jumped in fright.
"Miss Qing, are you hurt? Is it serious?"
Fearing that the old lady would get a shock and have high blood pressure again, Quan Yifei hurriedly explained, "Grandma, that's not Jian Qing's blood. Don't get agitated. The blood belongs to those scumbags."
Jian Qing nodded, and the old lady finally let go of her worries.
"As long as you're fine, it's all good," she murmured, still somewhat in shock.
Suddenly, a middle-aged man with a beaten up face, ignoring his wounds, managed to stand up and walked over to Jian Qing before kneeling down before her.
"Thank you, Miss. Thank you!" he said.
Jian Qing turned her head and lowered her gaze to look at him. "You don't have to thank me. I was just passing by."
