Mo Sinian brought lunch for her, eating together. After finishing the meal, Meng Xi'er said softly: "I have to go back, Sinian."
Mo Sinian was taken aback, looking at her pale face, he seemed to realize something. He put down his chopsticks and asked softly, "What's wrong, Xixi?"
"I have to save him." Meng Xi'er looked at her fingers. In her life, she had found it impossible to hold onto the things she loved most - her father, her mother, her lover. But this time, she couldn't just sit back and wait.
She couldn't bear to watch Meng Zichen wait for death.
For him, she didn't care even if it meant trampling on her own dignity.
"Have you figured out how to save him?" Mo Sinian looked at her and asked softly.
There was a determined light at the bottom of Meng Xi'er's eyes. It was the expression of a desperate throw of the dice, like a person about to drown clutching at a piece of driftwood.
