...
"Maeve, are you hurt? Does it hurt?" Yves King turned his head, carefully examining Maeve's body while tenderly and gently expressing his concern.
Upon hearing Yves King's voice, Maeve felt as if she had suddenly found a safe haven, and her unrestrained tears gradually ceased, though the intermittent sobs took a while to stop.
After confirming that she wasn't seriously injured, Yves King's emotions also eased slightly. Though there was no harm done, how could he not feel distressed when his little treasure had taken a fall?
The fat woman sized up the newcomer, noting the resolute face shadowed with traces of brooding. A hint of stubble roughened his chin, mingling with an indescribable sense of world-weariness. He still wore his cooking apron, obviously having rushed over before he even had time to take it off. For no apparent reason, she suddenly felt an intense fear surge, as if she were about to face a great calamity.