Gu Mohan stretched out his large palm and carefully inspected the wound on Tang Mo'er's forehead.
Tang Mo'er looked at the man standing before her. Why is it always him? He always appeared whenever she was in her worst state.
His rough fingertips pressed lightly against her delicate skin. He seemed to be angry about her injury, since his face was wrenched up like a twisted wet towel and his face was as dark as a looming thundercloud. She was touched by his concern and found her eyes watery. All she wanted was to just fall into his chest and be protected by him forever.
She had a realization, she was falling for him.
He always appeared, as though he was her Prince Charming whenever she needed help. She didn't know when it had started, but she had become unconsciously dependent on him. He was an incomparably good-looking 30-year-old man who knew how to deal with her private issues. I'm falling for him. Hard.
