The girl wasn't even a meter and a half tall, her frail, shaky frame stumbling step by step toward the main road. Her ashen-gray hair, long enough to reach her waist, drooped behind her, making her look weak.
Louis frowned, immediately lunged forward, and yanked the child back in time. It was a close call—by a hair's breadth—the car that missed them by only a few centimeters was kicked by him off toward the roadside.
The man chasing after the car saw this and rushed over, hastily thanking him before quickly gathering his belongings, afraid others would swoop in and snatch them away.
The little girl fell into Louis's arms, seeming somewhat startled. She tilted her head back, wide eyes staring at him.
"Lucian, are you alright?"
Just then, Julia came running over, her worried expression impossible to hide.
Louis waved his hand, speaking softly: "I'm fine."
Then he looked at the girl, who was now standing upright, and said earnestly: "Don't do that again. It's hazardous."
