Bai Chuwei looked into Duan Feihan's eyes. They were brighter than the stars and she replied rather obediently. "Hanhan."
She slightly increased her pitch at the ending syllable, as if addressing a five year old little kid.
Duan Feihan's handsome face stiffened that very second.
Han… Hanhan?
An image suddenly flashed past his eyes. There was someone who also called him that way when he was young.
However, that happened too long ago and he had already forgotten that person's appearance.
Bai Chuwei swung her hands and walked forward as she welcomed the spring wind. It seemed that she wanted to blend into the night.
In a self-mocking tone, she said, "It's unexpected right? The founder of the chinese medicine can't cure herself."
Ever since that man died for her sake, this illness had accompanied her. Her heart would ache from time to time and she had to consume these spiritual medicines to suppress the pain.
