It was Zhan Beiye's hand.
Protecting her forehead, he pulled her and Ji Yu away from the huge rock. Throughout, Zhan Beiye was calm and collected and did not spare a glance at the huge rock. He just silently embraced Meng Fuyao.
There was no other meaning to this embrace. It was, in its purest sense, a hug to console her. His embrace was broad and warm. His scent could be characterized by the smoke, bloody and metallic smell that had been accumulated throughout the journey. But more so, it was the light undertones of his musky fragrance; like the pine trees in a snowy day, giving off a comfortable and refreshing aroma that would allow one to feel the resolution and power within him.
Meng Fuyao leaned on his shoulder, allowing herself this one moment of weakness. The embrace had no regards for romantic feelings—it was an act of reminiscence for those who had sacrificed.
