The dim light fell on Fu Yanlin's figure, softening the lines of his profile. The worry and heartache for Wen Sheng were written all over his deep, dark eyes.
Although Zhu Qingjia had not made it clear over the phone, he guessed that this incident was very important to Wen Sheng.
No matter what happened, he would stay by her side.
"If you don't feel like having porridge, I can cook something else for you. When you're sick you should rest well, and we can talk about anything upsetting you after you've recovered. Don't worry, with me here, there's nothing to fear, even if the sky falls," Fu Yanlin's voice was very soft, gentle as if he was coaxing a child.
He always thought of pampering Wen Sheng like a child, but her stubborn nature meant she always liked to shoulder things alone.
This bad habit had to change.
"I want the porridge you make," Wen Sheng blinked her doe eyes, her expression a mixture of aggrieved and coquettish, impossible to refuse.
