At Laojun Mountain, inside the room of a rural homestay.
The walkie-talkie Qing Chen had placed on the table suddenly rang out, "Hello, I am Kunlun's Lu Yuan."
But it was ignored, left to rest quietly where it was.
At this moment, Qing Chen lay on his back on the pristine white bed, biting down on a towel, his face pale.
At the foot of the bed, Jiang Xue, with several bottles of iodine and cotton swabs she had bought in the morning, was cleaning Qing Chen's wounds on his feet and legs while crying.
Tiny slivers of wood, fragments of glass, soil.
Cleared away by Jiang Xue, bit by bit.
Large beads of sweat rolled down Qing Chen's forehead, and Li Tongyun was tirelessly wiping them away at his side.
The young girl was also crying.
It wasn't due to fear or other emotions, they were simply too heartbroken for Qing Chen.
