"You can go, but you have to promise me not to get agitated, otherwise my efforts to save you will be wasted," he nagged in his ear as he pushed him forward.
Ou Mucen didn't speak, but at this moment, his face was terribly pale, and his lips, due to days of slumber, were as dry as tree bark lacking water for several days; one could even see flakes of white skin and traces of blood-red cracks on them.
It was like a fish about to die of thirst; without her air, everything was dry and cracked.
Pushing all the way, the two never spoke again. Until they saw the large characters of "Morgue" in front of them and a chill suddenly swept over, Ji Chengzhi asked again worriedly above his head, "Are you really sure you won't get agitated?"
Ou Mucen's face was stiff white: "No!"
Ji Chengzhi paused his steps upon hearing this, doubting slightly, but in the end, he still pushed him inside.
