Lu Zhao lay exhaustedly on the hospital bed, his handsome face looking a bit dull from staying up late and excessive worry.
"Lu Zhao," Luo Ying called out wearily, "Lu Zhao."
Lu Zhao was in a light sleep. He jolted up at the sound of her voice. When he saw that Luo Ying was awake, he excitedly grabbed her hand.
"Baby, you're finally awake," Lu Zhao's forehead pressed against the back of Luo Ying's hand, and a tear slid down her cold skin.
He was crying.
One can only imagine the fear he had experienced while she was unconscious.
Luo Ying tried to sit up, but the pain from her wound made her flinch, and her facial features scrunched together in agony.
Lu Zhao quickly held her, "Your body is still weak; don't move for now. You haven't eaten anything after being unconscious for so long. Let me feed you some first."
He opened the insulated lunch box on the bedside table, and the aroma of chicken soup filled the air.
