As Mo Xi spoke, he wrapped his arms around Mo Qian's waist and skillfully lifted him from the wheelchair, placing him on the soft bed beside him.
Seeing that the young master did not seem to have any more instructions, Mo Xi bowed slightly and turned to leave.
Mo Qian leaned on the edge of the bed and suddenly laughed for no reason. He looked at his legs covered by the quilt and thought of that fickle girl who said one thing and meant another. The smile at the corner of his mouth and the bottom of his eyes were slightly helpless and bitter.
Zhuang Xian, who had returned to her room early, sat by the window with her phone in her hand. The moonlight shone through the window, and she sighed a few times. Her left arm was still slightly sore.
It was not a light injury, after all. Zhuang Xian was not a superhuman with super self-healing abilities. She would feel pain but could not do it in front of outsiders!
