Wei Zhijuan's wet hair had become tangled on her cheeks and shoulders, and her face was flushed red. At this moment, she looked very pitiful, but strangely, in Xian Yijun's line of vision, the stubborn figure in front of him overlapped with the memory of seventeen-year-old Jiang Ruolan, who had a wound on her shoulder at that time. She hid in her room and refused to see anyone. He had been keeping vigil outside the door for several days, fearing that she would jump down from the third floor of the Jiang Family's villa.
Xian Yijun woke up from his memory and looked back at the shivering figure under the covers. He approached the bed and saw that Wei Zhijuan was trembling and backing away as if she was extremely resisting something.