The world before her was pitch-black, and rumbling sounds of collapse kept thundering down.
Lu Fengxuan felt she could hardly breathe and suddenly sat up in bed with a scream, "Ah—"
Her gaze was unfocused, and her delicate face was as pale as paper. The hospital gown hung loosely on her body, her chest heaving rapidly.
A slender hand holding a handkerchief reached over to gently wipe the cold sweat from her forehead.
The light in Lu Fengxuan's eyes was ignited, and she quickly reached out, "…Brother Ayin!"
"Lu Fengxuan, it's me," the owner of the wrist spoke unhurriedly.
The smile on Lu Fengxuan's lips froze, but she still held the man's wrist, slowly looking up.
When she saw the enchantingly handsome face of Lu Xingye, she silently let go, the bright light in her eyes quietly extinguishing.
"I'll call the doctor over, but first have some water," Lu Xingye said, ignoring the sting in his chest and pouring her a glass of water.
