Grant couldn't believe what Han Ling said. His steps trembled as he approached the bedside and reached out to touch the empty space, but no matter how he looked, there was nothing there. The room was filled only with his own breathing, as if the whole world had lost its weight.
Ling Zhao, sitting on the bed, lowered his head and watched the scene with a pang of bitterness in his heart. Only Han Ling could see him—no one else could see or hear him. The blankness before Grant was like an invisible wall, isolating them. Ling Zhao felt a deep loneliness and fear swell up inside him. He looked helplessly at Grant, his eyes full of grievance and longing, almost shedding tears.
His lips quivered softly but no sound came out; he could only plead silently with his eyes for Han Ling's help… until finally, he whispered, "Can you help me...?"
