Xia Qingqian extended her trembling little hand, slowly moving it onto Beitang Yao's chest, her dull and bewildered gaze resting there for a long time before she finally raised her eyes to look at Beitang Yao, hoarsely asking, "Young Master, may I listen to your heart?"
Her nose tingled with acidity, her eyes slightly red, as wisps of light mist swirled in her eyes. With just a blink, the mist would turn into a spring and flow gently.
He stared at her with a grave face, and such cheesy words made him break out in goosebumps all over.
However, in the end, he couldn't bear it, gently nodding and leaning forward slightly of his own accord.
Carefully, he embraced her, avoiding touching her wounds.
She haphazardly wiped her tears with the back of her hand, then gently rested her tear-streaked face on his chest.
