Upon hearing Mo Xiuchen's words, Wen Ran's expression abruptly changed.
Mo Xiuchen suddenly tore off the white cloth from his body, got off the surgery car, and pulled her into his arms. Holding her tightly, his chin resting on her slender shoulder, he spoke in a low, helpless voice, "Ranran, could it be, would you prefer it if I actually died?"
The body in his arms trembled at his words. Then he felt a pair of thin arms around his waist, and her sobbing voice echoed in his ears: "No, I wouldn't."
A warmth spread in Mo Xiuchen's heart. Wen Ran raised her tear-brimmed, gentle eyes to look at him. Those eyes held no anger for being deceived by him. Instead, they were full of gratitude and love, so sincere and intense. Her face was still wet from tears, but a beautiful smile blossomed in her clear eyes:
"Xiuchen, I'm glad you lied to me."
As she finished speaking, two crystal-like tears rolled out of her eyes again.