Ward of Luo Qinghe.
The night was deep, and even the chirping of insects outside the window had faded, but the room remained brightly lit, filled with many people: Luo Qinghe's parents and older brother, the three members of the Bai Wei family, Fu Han, and Nan Qing.
Luo Qinghe lay on the hospital bed, his face so pale it was even whiter than the snow-white sheets; not a trace of color could be found. His lips were so faintly colored they resembled pear blossom petals, just a step away from white.
Bai Wei sat closest to him. She leaned forward, resting her chin on the bed, and strived to maintain eye contact with Luo Qinghe, "Does it... does it hurt a lot?"
"If you stop crying, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much." Luo Qinghe had intended to make a joke and smile, but as soon as he dared to form a smile, a piercing pain came from the wound on his back, and his expression uncontrollably turned into a mask of agony.
