But Jing Zhi didn't have much of an impression of Shangguan ning.
But he knew Jing Yichen and Jing Xi, and Shangguan ning was the only one who could be with them and visit him.
Jing Zhi smiled brightly and so did Shangguan ning.
In her eyes, Jing Zhi was still the same child from seven years ago.
She touched Jing Zhi's forehead gently. Her heart ached for him. He had suffered for the past seven years.
"Are you hungry? Is there anything you'd like to eat? Your brother is injured, are you injured? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Did you take your medicine? Why does your face look a little yellow? did you not rest well these days?"
Shangguan ning kept talking, treating him like a child who didn't know anything.
Jing Zhi wanted to laugh, but somehow, he felt warm inside.
When he was in North America, no one cared about him so much. He had always yearned for care and love.
