Shen Yan opened her eyes in a trance. The man’s choked voice on his shoulder was like a soft thorn, sticking in his mouth.
“Don’t cry …”
He said his voice was hoarse. The body temperature was too high, and the vocal cords passed along as if there were flames slowly roasting, each word with a burning smell.
When I said that, the palm of my hand gently held the back of Charles Qi’s head, pressing **** myself. He heard Qi Zi whisper weakly, his face buried on his chest slowly rubbing a few times, but his shoulders were still shaking, his right hand grabbed his back almost begging, and there was a fierce pain.
Shen Yan frowned, panting for a while, still clasping the back of her neck with her hands, and slowly pushed forward slowly.
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