Jiang Xiaoyue said that, but Feng Qingxue was still worried.
She worried about her family, her friends, all the innocent people battered by the storm. Even living in this era, she could not bear to see such a horrific scene, yet she knew she was powerless against everything that was about to happen.
The more she researched the documents and articles about the past decade, the more terror-stricken she became.
It was terrifying, unimaginably so.
She couldn't eat properly, couldn't sleep well, her mind was filled with chaotic thoughts, and one side of her face had swollen.
"Qingxue, what's wrong with you? Are you having inflammation?" Lu Jiang touched her face, but when she let out a cry of pain, he quickly withdrew his hand, his face filled with concern, "I'll take you to the hospital."
Xibao and Fubao were both lying on the kang bed, their large eyes blinking.
"Mommy!" Fubao poked her own cheek with slender fingers, "Not pretty anymore."
