Shi Mei's forehead had a fever-reducing patch stuck to it, her beautiful brows tightly knitted, and the IV tube on the back of her hand was still slowly infusing liquid into her body.
Her complexion was pale, lips devoid of any color.
Tears had accumulated across the bridge of her nose, forming a small vortex.
Shi Lingyan walked toward her and gently sat beside her.
Seeing this, Aunt Chen quietly pulled the doctor out and, taking the opportunity, closed the door behind them.
Shi Lingyan's broad, generous hand gently touched her face.
It was burning hot.
Like a small furnace, scaldingly hot.
Shi Lingyan picked up a handkerchief to wipe away her tears, and as he just lifted the covers to tuck her in, suddenly, a hand laid on his without warning.
Shi Mei had opened her eyes at some point and was staring intently at him.
Her gaze was indifferent, dark and formidable, filled with deep, intense hatred, and it was unmistakable.
