These few minutes passed by, and although they couldn't see each other's faces, she keenly sensed from the slight details that the man was enduring intense pain to protect her.
Whether it was the constantly tightening shadow of the vine tendrils falling down, the young man's increasingly labored breathing, or... she even heard, from just inches away, sounds like human bones being crushed bit by bit, which was hair-raising.
She dared not imagine whether he had already sustained irreversible severe injuries at this moment.
Despite this, the young man's arms were still firmly bracing this narrow space, not letting her feel even the slightest pain of being squeezed.
Yi Qingyan, trembling, reached out to touch Cen Dongsheng's face but instead touched something sticky, and immediately a fiery pain emanated from her fingertips, causing her to retract them as if stung by a venomous insect;
When she felt her fingers again, she found that her skin had been corroded with wounds.
