As Ning Xi subconsciously looked at the way her clothes hem was being clutched by the man, she had a stupefied expression on her face.
In his slumber, the man's usual arrogant and lazy facade had faded away. His face looked like there was a hint of childishness. She could not be sure what he was dreaming of, but his brows were furrowed and he seemed like he was experiencing some horrible pain. His knuckles started to blanch as he held on too tightly to her hem.
He looked terrible. Could he have fallen ill?
Ning Xi observed the thin layer of perspiration on his forehead and reflexively reached out to touch him. At last, her hand was caught off-guard and held tightly by the man as if he was a drowning person holding on tight to the last piece of driftwood...
Ning Xi frowned slightly. Just when she wanted to pull back, she heard the man mutter in a daze, "Mother..."
Ning Xi was stunned.
Mother?
Did she hear him wrongly?
