Yan Huan lay on the bed, not moving an inch. She made no sound, neither complaining nor crying about the pain she was suffering. She was no different from a vegetable, except that she was breathing and occasionally opening her eyes. Other than that, everyone was somehow affected by her sense of despair.
He Yibin took a seat. After a while, he felt a little thirsty, hence he poured himself a glass of water and drank it.
Abruptly, water spurted out of his mouth.
With a loud bang, he swung the door open and left the room.
"Oh, no! Yan Huan is gone."
When the others heard his exclamation, they immediately left their seats. Without considering further, Yi Ling placed her son on the sofa. At this moment, she was too occupied to care about her son.
He Yibin did not comment on her reaction. At least, she was showing some conscience and concern toward Yan Huan's well-being.