Shen Hua dragged a chair over, sat down by the bed, and waited for him to wake up.
A muffled groan seeped out from between his lips. Shen Yan slowly opened his eyes and raised his hand to clench the fabric over his chest. A dull pain seemed to still linger there.
"How does it feel to faint from pain?" A cold and sarcastic voice came from beside him.
That voice was too familiar to Shen Yan.
He propped himself up and sat up, looking at the person beside the bed. With a calm voice, he said, "I'm used to it, so I don't feel much anymore."
"Ha!" Shen Hua sneered sarcastically, "Ayan, how long will you continue deceiving yourself and others? You've been suffering for over forty years. Ask yourself, have you really gotten used to this pain?"
Time seemed to have been kind to the two brothers; their handsome faces bore no traces of the ravages of time. Who would have thought they were already in their forties?
