As Jing Jihan spoke, he felt a warm touch coming from the front of his shirt.
He didn't force her to lift her head to see her tears, just held her head close to him, allowing her to vent first.
Shi Su didn't cry for long, but her face was too messy now, so she didn't lift her head, just stayed close in his arms, murmuring: "I'm sorry, I lost my composure."
In Jing Jihan's embrace, there seemed to be a power that gradually calmed her mood, as if a strange and immense sense of security wrapped around her, forcibly pulling her out of her breakdown.
She sniffed, suddenly pushed against his chest, until she leaned back against the wall. The man didn't let go of her, but he also didn't continue to hold her head down, giving her room to breathe, while his gaze fell on her disastrously blood-stained face.
