Mo Nanjue thought, though they had only known each other for just over a year, perhaps what he did for Tong Ran wasn't the best, but at least he tried his best. He used all he had in his life to love her, even though all he originally had was just a heart.
Even a hundred and ten thousand Empire Jues couldn't compare to her smiling lips. He had fallen for her willingly all along.
At that time, lying on the cold operating table, with cold steel frames implanted in his limbs as temporary support, his whole body was undergoing a massive blood transfusion, the pain almost twisted his eyebrows apart, and the despair, like overwhelming yellow sand, pressed down. That period was the darkest and most bitter of his life, every minute and second might be the last moment of life, even surpassing the hardships endured in his childhood.
Mo Nanjue wondered more than once, under such heavy, inhuman despair, what exactly was supporting him standing back up?
