Seeing her expression at this moment, even if he were to endure more pain, he would be happy. He weakly gripped her hand, his voice feeble, but insisted on declaring word by word, "Wei Hui, I'm very happy."
What could he be joyful about in his current state? But within Lu Weixi was a bitter sweetness. She knew what he was trying to say. In fear of exacerbating his condition, she didn't respond verbally. Instead, she rested her head against him, letting his hand rest lightly on her cheek, stroking gently.
Her face was filthy, coated with rain and tears, the mud splattering from their scuffle, and even the traces of the blood he had smeared on her. Her hair too, was a damp and muddied mess. But when her cheek touched his palm, he treated it with a gentle stroke, as if caring for a rare treasure.
"Wei Hui, I…" he started.