Shen Han lifted his gaze and looked at her, saying nothing, merely easing the force of his bandaging, his voice still ice-cold, "No time to remove the bullet. After we shake them off, I'll get it out for you."
Bai Qinghuan nodded, "I can endure it."
"Good."
Donning his coat, Shen Han this time slid his arms under Bai Qinghuan and lifted her against his chest, using his own back to shield her from the dangers behind them.
The howling behind them grew closer and closer, and he knew that if they delayed any further, both of them would either die under gunfire or from wild and savage slashing—neither of which were death scenarios he, Shen Han, was fond of.
So, he wouldn't give them the chance.
Cradling a girl and sprinting with all his might, such a scene seemed all too familiar, bringing him an unexplainable sense of déjà vu and an unavoidable pang of pain.
