Hearing this, Yan Xiaye suddenly understood and was completely certain that the person before her was indeed Yan Shuirou and not someone else impersonating her.
This bizarre world view was as distorted and astonishing as ever.
"Beicheng, you should help persuade Xiaye too. I really can't lose her as a sister." Seeing Yan Xiaye's nonchalant expression, Yan Shuirou's heart tightened again, and in her panic, she shook Li Beicheng's arm frantically, "Beicheng... I, my chest hurts so much."
This gesture of clutching her chest was indeed a familiar act performed by Yan Shuirou in the past; a delicate and pretty face turned pale and helpless, prompting Li Beicheng, out of habit, to pull her into his arms with urgency, "Don't talk, housekeeper, why aren't you calling the doctor already!"
Yan Xiaye watched with a cold eye, smiling as she observed Yan Shuirou's act, calmly exposing her facade, "Didn't you have a heart transplant? Is there a point in pretending to be sick?"