Yang Danning pursed her lips, "Okay then."
"I'm off to class."
Ji Anning said hello, and without waiting for Yang Danning to say anything, she turned and walked away without looking back.
She covered the right side of her lower abdomen with one hand; she had just drunk a bottle of beverage, and because she had run too hastily just now, the area was stabbing with pain.
Sighing, Yang Danning watched Ji Anning's retreating figure, opened her mouth to call out to her, but Ji Anning ran faster than a rabbit, so she gave up.
Pulling her gaze back, she looked down at the Pop Rocks in her hand, puzzled, and entered the infirmary.
On the hospital bed, the man lay there, an IV dripping into his hand, his eyes closed. His handsome face was pale, possessing an unusual, sickly beauty.
The fondness in Yang Danning's eyes couldn't be restrained. She walked over, bent down, and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixated on Ji Chicheng's face without blinking.