It was an April evening in the quiet Ward. Song ran sat by the bed and looked at the person on the bed quietly. He was in such a deep sleep. She had never slept so deeply before.
Song ran's fingers lingered on his face, but he did not move. Usually, he would not be able to sleep at this time.
How tired must he be?
Even though he was back, song ran felt a lump in her throat. Whenever she thought about how he had suffered in that dark underground world and how he had endured for so long with such serious injuries, she could not help but want to cry.
She wanted to ask him why he didn't cherish his life.
Hao Jun's life was his life, but was his life not?
Was he thinking about song ran when he went down?
But he was sleeping. He had persisted for seven days and needed a good sleep. How could she bear to disturb him?
Let him sleep, let him sleep well.
