The night was thick, and Chu Zhiyi could only see his eyes, dim and obscure, half his face outlined by the moonlight through the window, not very clear.
This highly aggressive posture made Chu Zhiyi extremely nervous, unconsciously swallowing her saliva.
A slight noise was very clear in the silence.
Yan Jingting sighed, barely audible, "Zhizhi, can't you talk to me properly?"
"When have I not spoken to you properly?"
"Since you woke up today until now, you haven't said more than twenty sentences to me."
His voice deliberately softened, sounding somewhat aggrieved, "I haven't been by your side these days, and I don't know what has happened to you."
"If you truly resent me for being able to stand up, I'll just stay in a wheelchair forever. You can treat me as if I'm always disabled, okay?"
Chu Zhiyi was at a loss for words, retorting, "You're not really disabled, what's the point in pretending."
Yan Jingting said, "I just don't want you to feel sad."
