"Is this a dream, or..."

"Wait, where's Fu Zhun!"

Xie Qingfeng couldn't take it anymore and angrily slammed the bowl down on the table. "Someone come here right now!"

"Bring her assistant in!"

A figure seemed to leave from the shadows.

Before long, Fu Zhun arrived inside, pushing a wheelchair.

His face, as cold and aloof as a traditional Chinese ink painting, with its sharply defined eyebrows and bright eyes, softened considerably when he saw Su An.

"You're finally awake."

“You…” Su An’s eyes stung with tears, and her heart ached with a mixture of joy and suppressed emotions.

She stumbled and rushed over, staggering, and finally managed to catch Fu Zhun. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she trembled as she rubbed her body against him.

"It's alive! And it can talk!"

"You really are Fu Zhun! You finally survived this time!"

Staring at the living man in front of her, Su An couldn't help but sob out loud, burying her face in his powerfully beating chest.

In an instant, Fu Zhun felt his clothes become soaked, the warm liquid seeping into his heart.

He raised his hand to stroke Su An's head, which was shaking with tears, and couldn't help but chuckle softly: "I'm definitely alive. Those nightmares are all over."

Su An hugged him tightly with both hands, feeling his real body temperature and breath, and felt like she wanted to cry herself to death.

Nightmare, nightmare—it's easy to say, but she watched herself kill him over and over again!

"Ahem! I said—"

Xie Qingfeng stared blankly at them and waved his hand at the two of them.

There are still people here.

"How about you can have the bed and I leave?"