Jing Haohao's crying briefly paused, and after a moment, she gently raised her head. Her long eyelashes were wet as if washed with water, her face was stained with tears, and there was a layer of moisture in her eyes, appearing as if large drops of tears would fall at any moment.
Liang Chen's hand hesitated on Jing Haohao's shoulder, bending over, he stared at her tear-streaked face, her color draining away bit by bit.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, he found himself mute as if stricken with aphasia, unable to utter his sorrow. All he could do was gently move his hand to her arm and, using all his strength, pulled her up from the ground.
Jing Haohao, like a puppet, slowly stood up with his help. She stood before him, pale and with her head bowed.
