Her brother was rebellious when he was young, but he became calm when he matured. There was always a sense of pride between his brows.
Sang Qianqian could not imagine what state of mind her brother had been in. His hands and feet were chained up, and he had been locked up in such a small space for nearly half a year.
The tears that she had been holding back all this time, could no longer be held back when she saw Sang Minglang, and they rolled down in large droplets.
Sang Minglang's face, on the other hand, carried a smile. "Why are you crying? Aren't I still alive and well? It's rare for us to be able to meet, so you should be happy."
The more he pretended to be relaxed, the sadder Sang Qianqian felt, and she could not stop her tears.
Sang Minglang sighed silently and pulled her hand over, letting her sit down beside him. He raised his hand to wipe her tears.
"Don't cry, Qianqian. You didn't come see me just to cry, right?"
