Wei Qin's already gaunt and pale fingers clenched fiercely into a fist, the knuckles turning white, and the greenish veins beneath his pallid skin were striking.
Little Wang wanted to help, but first, he was concerned about Tang Qian's status, and second, he knew that Wei Qin was not in good shape.
At this moment, all he could do was to stay by Wei Qin's side. A child getting hit might not be a big deal, but Wei Qin was just too fragile. If anything serious happened, no one could bear the responsibility.
"Wei Qin, deep breaths, don't worry!" Little Wang comforted softly.
Wei Qin gave a bitter smile. He wasn't worried, he was just heartbroken. Even his secretary knew about his health, but Tang Qian, his mother, had long left him behind.
It was laughable.
Wei Qin eased his breathing bit by bit, struggling to look at the vague figure approaching in the distance before he allowed himself to close his eyes in relief.
