"Jun Moyan..."
"Xiao'ai, it's me." Ye Qi spoke softly, but his throat couldn't stop choking. His heart had long since been dripping with blood, riddled with wounds.
"Brother Ye Qi...?"
"It's me."
Wen Xiao'ai's mind gradually cleared up, yet her brain was filled with the clan leader's merciless face and ruthless coercion, and that sentence: Ye Qi's love for you is just like your love for Jun Moyan. How could you repay him? You either marry him, or he dies.
A flood of helplessness and pain swept over, and Wen Xiao'ai nearly fainted several times from the strain.
"Brother Ye Qi..."
She called weakly, her voice tinted with a sobbing tone.
"I'm here, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? First drink some porridge, then take your medicine; you'll feel better." Ye Qi spoke, placing a hand on Wen Xiao'ai's icy forehead.
What he felt was a handful of cold sweat.
