Jiang Ruan had her eyes tightly closed, her lashes stained with tear marks, looking so pitiful. Her pale and innocent face now appeared sickly, her whole person like a fragile doll.
Leaning against Bao Ye's embrace, through the thin fabric of his shirt, the man could clearly feel her body temperature.
It was alarmingly hot.
His eyes were filled with anxiety, his fingertip gently wiping away her tears, and he called her softly.
"Jiang Ruan, it's time to take your medicine."
His voice was more tender than ever before.
After speaking, even Bao Ye was momentarily stunned.
He never considered himself a gentle person. Everyone who knew him said he was ruthless and cunning.
But at this moment, seeing her vulnerability, Bao Ye couldn't help but feel compassion.
There was no response from Jiang Ruan.
It was expected by Bao Ye.
As if it was natural, the man did not hesitate, picked up the bowl of dark soup, and drank it directly into his mouth.
Bitter.
It was extremely bitter.
