苏清寒眨了眨眼，视线还有些模糊，dependent on the dim light filtering through the high windows. She looked up and saw a tall figure standing by the door, draped in a dark purple robe with hidden patterns. His posture was upright, his eyes deep, but they held an air of scrutiny and inquiry, as if he were examining a lamb destined for the pot.

"Awake?" The voice came from the doorway, laced with laziness and a hint of hoarseness. It belonged to the man she had just woken up from a deep sleep.

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead when she heard his voice. She struggled to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, making her unable to continue.

"Are you alright?" A concerned voice came from beside her. She turned her head and saw a young boy, about seven or eight years old, standing there with worried eyes. Beside him stood a young man in black and white, his handsome face full of concern.

The boy's eyes swept over her body and stopped at her abdomen. He frowned and said, "Mama, your wound has been open for a long time. Why isn't it healing?"