"Hiss."

Stabbed, Lynn withdrew her hand, a bead of blood dripping from it.

Somehow, seeing the bead of blood coming out of Lynn's rosy finger pulp, Benson also felt like he had been pricked too.

Lynn pulled out a piece of tissue to wipe the blood off and yawned. Then she continued to mend the dress.

Beside her, Benson looked down at her head and tightened his fists constantly, thinking, 'This woman challenges my patience again and again. Why does she stay all night to mend a poor dress?'

Benson opened the drawer, took a card and tossed it on the table.

"Take this card and buy another one tomorrow....