Han Chen's heart was gripped and felt a little sore. He wanted to "punish" Zhou Mo severely, punish her for not saying anything. He wanted to pinch her waist, make her feel pain, and make her remember it.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it.
His Momo is sick, and it’s the same disease.
He was too heartbroken to even have time to react.
How could I bear to let her feel pain?
Tears had already welled up in Zhou Mo's eyes.
Grievance. Sadness. Bitterness. Touching.
The tears surged up all at once, and Zhou Mo's eyes could no longer bear it, and tears immediately flowed like rain.
She was like a turtle, burying her head in Han Chen's chest, as if Han Chen was her turtle shell.
She hugged Han Chen's waist tightly. The strong and familiar sense of security made her unwilling to relax for a moment. She wanted to hold him tightly, preferably for a lifetime.
Han Chen lowered his head and gently kissed the top of Zhou Mo's head, feeling extremely distressed.
"Has it been diagnosed? Why don't you ask my mom to take a look at you. Don't be sad, it's not a serious illness."
Zhou Mo shook his head. "Aunt Liang has already checked it out for me. She even went with me to get some medicine. I have to take Chinese medicine three times a day now."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Han Chen was extremely uncomfortable. "Blame me. I took you as soon as I got back... Where's the medicine? I'll go make it now."
"I boiled the medicine when I picked it up," Zhou Mo said. "It's all in the refrigerator. Just heat it up."
"I'm going to warm up now," Han Chen wanted to take off Zhou Mo's arm.
Zhou Mo refused and insisted on holding her.
"Be good and listen," Han Chen coaxed, "Your health is more important, don't make a fuss for now."
"No, I have to make a scene," Zhou Mo said, deliberately being unreasonable. "Tell me, do you dislike me?"
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