The sound of sobbing coming from the hospital room paused, and then, the tightly closed door was pushed open from the inside.
A girl in protective gear, slender and delicate, walked out. She had stopped crying, but the redness around her eyes proved that she had just been in tears.
Shen Yanhe took off her protective suit and handed it to the nurse for disinfection. Her moist eyes, with a hint of red, looked at him pitifully, and her sweet, soft voice, slightly nasal, asked, "Mr. Fu, what's wrong?"
Fu Yanhe's gaze fell on her reddened eyes and those cat-like pupils that seemed to have been washed with water, so clear and bright. His brows furrowed slightly, and his hand resting on the armrest of the wheelchair clenched a little.
She had cried.
This realization made him feel inexplicably uncomfortable inside.
In the face of Shen Yanhe's puzzled look, Fu Yanhe pursed his lips, his voice softened a bit, "You should come back to the manor with me first."
