Before this, Zhou Jing'an didn't think this word had anything to do with him.
But today, he really realized it.
When he received the news of the accident, when he saw the corpses everywhere but her figure, when he saw the blood-stained handkerchief, when he rushed up Qingchun Mountain, when he saw Jiang Ling weakly closing her eyes...
He then understood his vulnerability.
Zhou Jing'an concealed his tears, but when he lowered his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Jiang Ling's lower abdomen, and his nose felt sore again.
He didn't dare to think about what would happen to him if he didn't return to Beijing earlier, if he was a step late, if they hurt her, and what would happen to Jiang Ling...
Zhou Jing'an finally shed tears.
Silent, quiet, fearful, and self-blaming.
The bright moonlight strung his tears together into a line, which was crystal clear and sparkling, and fell dripping on the quilt that they both covered themselves with.
"Why are you crying again?"
-
Jiang Ling opened her eyes in a daze, and what she saw was the scene of the handsome man crying. In the dark night, under the moonlight, he was broken like a piece of paper and a lamp.
She raised her left hand and hooked his little finger, feeling distressed and helpless.
"Why are you crying again?"
Zhou Jing'an was startled and raised his eyes suddenly. The tears in his eyes suddenly poured out, flowing down his cheeks and falling along his chin.
He suddenly grabbed Jiang Ling's hand, not knowing whether to cry or laugh, and called her with a twitching mouth: "Ling'er, you're awake."
The hoarse voice implied the joy of regaining what had been lost and the fear of a sudden drop of heart.
He wiped his tears carelessly and murmured softly: "You're awake."
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