The drizzling autumn rain fell from the sky, landing on the earth, pressing down all the dust of the people.
When the fine rain fell into the pond in the Xiahous' courtyard, it splashed ripples.
Due to the overcast weather, the sky appeared a bit dark, and so did the interior of the house.
Qiu Ruoxi sat by the bedside, quietly watching Ye Xunhuan who was lying on the bed. Her eyes, once as bright as the moon, looked hollow, with an undertone of grey or rather a lifelessness.
It was a lifelessness of despair towards life.
On the bed, Ye Xunhuan still lay motionless, except for breathing, there was no other movement, like a living dead.
Three days had passed, and Ye Xunhuan had not woken up. Qiu Ruoxi also stayed by Ye Xunhuan's side day and night for three days.
Mu Shuyi and Xiahao Yunting saw all this, and the pain was in their hearts.
