His words were like warm currents that flooded his brother’s heart, heating up the latter’s cold and numb body.
Tilting his head, Little Yichen asked teasingly, “Aren’t you afraid?”
His brother turned his calm and steady gaze on him and drawled, “You are teasing me.”
A kingly elegance could be detected in his words; he was sure and composed.
It was hard to explain how this boy, with his tender face, could evoke such awe-inspiring charisma in his every move and word.
“What should we do now?”
His younger sibling lowered his eyes and leaned forward slightly while spouting leisurely, “We’ll wait.”
…
At the hospital.
Yun Shishi woke up from her nightmare with a start. She sat up abruptly in the bed when a snow-white world faded into her eyes.
She could smell the strong and familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital.
The windows were ajar with the curtains flapping in the evening wind. She could not help shivering as the cold breeze cut across the window opening.
Before she could do anything, someone put a coat over her shoulders.
Mu Yazhe’s voice could be heard from above her head.
She turned around violently and saw the man sitting beside the bed. His tender gaze was on her as he gently pulled up her collars.
“Don’t catch a cold.”
Just as he finished with his words, she grabbed his long, slender fingers and looked at him with bloodshot eyes.
“Where’s Youyou?! Where is he?!”
He looked at her calmly without a word.
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The pressure on his fingers intensified, almost hurting him with her forceful exertion.
“Speak! Answer me; where’s my boy? Where is he?!”
He held her shoulders and assisted her to lie down. “You’ve suffered terrible injuries. Don’t talk too much and have a good rest.”
She slapped his hand away, looking hostile.
“Why are you avoiding my question? I’m asking you where Youyou is!”
Her words were uttered through clenching teeth; her eyes had already turned scorching red by then.
The man only frowned in silence.
“Why aren’t you talking?!” She paused. Gulping a lump down her throat, her voice was hoarse and quivering when she spoke again. “Did you really let him be exchanged with me as hostage?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly.
“Why?! Why did you do that?!” she hollered. “Mu Yazhe, how could you be so heartless?! He’s just a seven-year-old child! How could you be so heartless to let him be taken hostage?! Do you know how dangerous that is?!”
She turned emotional and full of trepidation. Veins could be seen bulging on her ashen face; her face was so frail and white that the pores were visible.
He looked at her solemnly and replied in his deep tone, “I know.”
“You know?! If you know, why did you do it in the first place?! Are you crazy?! Have you gone mad?!”
She attacked him madly, screaming at the top of her lungs. When she saw him keeping quiet, she was infuriated further and grabbed a nearby pillow to hurl at him. “How could you do that?! I hate you; I hate you!”
The wound on her upper abdomen split open with her aggressive action, soaking the bandage with traces of blood.
She suffered varying degrees of injuries.
The worst cut was at her abdomen where it needed five stitches.
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