Song Zhiyuan gently wiped the corner of Madam's eyes with a handkerchief and said warmly, "It's all right now, I'm back, Xiangyi, you've worked hard."
Heavens, these were the most heartfelt words Madam had ever heard.
"I..." As soon as she spoke, she felt her throat dry, hoarse, and astringent.
She wanted to tell him that she had a nightmare, in which the child was gone, and the couple became strangers, turning against each other, and later, there was no later, all because of the child.
The child, yes, her child.
Madam's consciousness returned, and she instinctively touched her abdomen. With this movement, her whole body felt like it had been beaten, everything was painful, and she couldn't muster any strength.
"Don't move." Song Zhiyuan held her down, went to pour a cup of water from the teapot, checked if it was warm, then helped her sit up, fed her to drink, and placed a soft cushion at her back for support.
Madam was weak but anxious and asked, "Where is the child?"
