Liam Tang was in a daze, being dragged by Ethan Yang's arm. He was so frightened that he couldn't say a word and couldn't muster any strength. The attempt to kill Zhou Lin just now exhausted all his strength and courage. He didn't dare to think about how he almost became a murderer.
His cold sweat flowed down his forehead, soaking his hair. The hair formed into clumps and lay limply on his wet forehead.
His legs were too weak to walk, and he staggered and almost fell to the ground with every step he took. Ethan Yang could only stand still, stretched out his arms to hold him, and helped him walk forward a few steps. But he felt that the speed was too slow, so he let go of Liam Tang, half-knelt down with his back to him, and turned around and said, "Come up."
He stood up with Liam Tang on his back, and his half brother lay limply on his back, his whole body cold. Their ribs on their chests and spines on their backs pressed against each other, and the boy's hard bones rubbed against each other as he walked, causing some pain, but no one said anything.
Ethan Yang heard his brother crying, the voice was low, as if deliberately suppressed, with endless despair and grievance. His shirt was wet with tears, and through the thin cloth, the wet and warm liquid flowed to his back.
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