Yao Ziye entered the room and immediately saw the person lying on the bed. That pale, closed-eyed face made his heart ache. He hurried to the bedside. Reaching out his hand, he first felt her forehead which seemed a bit feverish, and her breathing was rapid. The pain and pity in his heart were too profound for words.
"Yao Ke?" Fang Min and Chen Xiaoyi, seeing his troubled face, dared not speak loudly.
"What happened?" Yao Ziye turned his head to look at them. His normally gentle and elegant eyes were now fiercely demanding, "Who brought her here?"
"It was me," Chen Xiaoyi answered.
"Tell me what happened?"
"I don't know exactly what happened. By the time I got there, she had already fallen to the ground. As for whether she fell herself—" Chen Xiaoyi frowned under Yao's scrutinizing gaze, "I did hear a sound that was out of the ordinary, but it could have been the wind."
