Zhuo Junyue held her in his arms, the corner of his white shirt soaked from her tears.
After comforting her for a while, she finally stopped crying.
He took her hand, "Let's go, let's go home."
Su Ningyan sniffed and pulled her hand away.
Zhuo Junyue frowned, holding her hand and examining her red, swollen fingertips.
He looked even angrier than before, "How did this happen?"
Su Ningyan sniffed, "Today, the reporters chased me into an alley. They were pushing and shoving. I got pushed to the ground and lost my phone. There were so many people, they stepped on me."
Thinking about that scene, murderous intent rose within Zhuo Junyue once again.
"Where else are you hurt? Don't lie to me, tell the truth."
Those journalists were as good as dead to him. He would not let anyone off the hook for causing harm to his beloved, crushing her so.
Usually, no matter how angry he was, he was reluctant to lay a finger on her.
"My leg hurts a bit, but it's fine."
