"The eighth will be fine!" Yi Luowa whispered softly in his ear.
Tong Airui froze for a moment, then gripped her hand tightly.
Her hand ached from his grip, but Yi Luowa's pain wasn't in her hand—it was in her heart. His reaction confirmed her guess!
The eighth was injured! And it wasn't light!
Tong Airui shut his eyes tightly, suppressing his tears with great effort. His crying wasn't merely sorrow for the eighth, but also an indictment of himself. He blamed himself for not taking proper care of his younger brother—if something happened to Xuanxuan, how would he face his family?
An abdominal open wound—can that even be saved?
Their hands remained tightly clasped. Yi Luowa gazed at her aunt's back, feeling a strange, indescribable ache within her. If her aunt discovered the eighth had been hurt, how devastated would she be?
Yan Zi had only napped for a short while before waking with a jolt from a nightmare, her eyes snapping open in terror.
