Ye Yiheng had been blaming himself for not holding back his strength and making her cry.
After returning from the bath, Leng Yu Yan hid inside the bed.
Even when someone lay down beside her, she had no intention of turning around to look at him.
Neither spoke to the other, making time pass particularly slowly.
The weather was getting hotter, and the light blanket on the bed made Leng Yu Yan feel somewhat feverish, but she didn't want to move, lying stiffly as if out of spite.
Ye Yiheng stared at her back for a long time. Seeing her as if she had been crying the entire time, he felt a tightness in his heart and quickly leaned over.
"Does it still hurt?"
His hand squeezed her arm, his voice filled with tenderness and anxiety.
He didn't know how to comfort people at this moment—what should he do?
