"Anyway, the whole world is full of your relatives."
"You're even jealous of an aunt!"
"I am not."
"Mo Nanjue..."
Tong Ran leaned over with a soft voice, resting her head on his shoulder, "I'm so tired."
Mo Nanjue closed his eyes, raised the back of his hand to his forehead. As the effect of the stimulant gradually faded, he felt a deeper sense of powerlessness. He tiredly closed his eyelids and found it difficult to open them again.
No one knew his body better than he did. He had witnessed how severe Mo Wenbin's condition was. It hadn't been passed down to Mo Beiyan, but to him. This was fate.
He used to often say that he never believed in fate, but later realized that fate doesn't need your belief; it will prove itself to you.
The stimulant and actuator wouldn't last long, and frequent use would lead to immunity. Mo Nanjue wasn't afraid of death, he only feared that in the end, nothing in the world would be able to support him to stand up again.
At that time...
