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He himself hadn't been injured, he'd merely fainted due to an excessive consumption of spirit and Inner Strength. Now, after a period of deep sleep, he had somewhat recovered.
Only now did Tang San realize that nestled in his left hand was a small, tender hand—that of Xiaowu's. She was sitting by the bedside, her upper body leaning over and asleep beside him. It was faintly discernible that her eyes were still red and her delicate little face a bit pale. Her long scorpion braid hung over the edge of the bed, with her long eyelashes resting on her eyelids, quivering slightly from time to time, clearly indicating her sleep was not at all peaceful.
Gazing at her beautiful little face, her pitch-black long hair, and her eyebrows still creased from not completely recovering from her fear, a boundless compassion surged uncontrollably in Tang San's heart.
