"What's wrong?"
Looking at the woman's pale, sickly face, Xiao Ruiyuan's eyebrows furrowed, and he asked with concern, a deep worry flashing through his eyes.
"Oh, it's nothing!" Mo Yan was startled and then lowered her head to hide the unusual feeling rising in her heart, "Sir Xiao, did you come all the way here for something?"
Xiao Ruiyuan looked at her, silent, his expression becoming colder.
In the nearly two months they had not met, the woman before him seemed to have suffered from a severe illness. Her already delicate frame appeared even more frail, and her tiny face more gaunt, making her eyes look disproportionately large. They lacked the confident luster of the past, her brows knit with deep sorrow.
What on earth could have tormented her so! Yet, detestably, she chose to be perfunctory in his presence, unwilling to speak the truth.
Thinking this, Xiao Ruiyuan clenched his fists, his aura chilling even more.