The moment she entered, the man in the black shirt on the wooden chair didn't move but opened his eyes as she hurried toward him.
His deep, black eyes fell on her face.
Ji Nuan hurried up to Mo Jingshen, handed him the water from the tray, and whispered as the men outside, without Dali's urging, didn't come to watch, "Feng Ling and Nanheng will be coming soon, and there will be a great gunfight here. The men were busy enough with coping with the helicopter, and don't have time to watch us. You need to keep your physical strength. Come on, drink some water."
Ji Nuan had not spoken for more than two days, so her voice was hoarse but clear enough for him to hear.
Mo Jingshen's eyes dropped slightly; he took a glance at Ji Nuan's hand that was still wrapped around with the white cloth.
