Fast growing cold

Liu Sumeng had been told that as a baby he used to cry a lot. But after a certain age he simply had stopped. Liu Suye had theorized that Liu Sumeng cried out all his tears when he was young, saving none for his adult years.

But he was wrong.

Because Liu Sumeng was crying. No longer able to hold back tears, they tumbled freely down his face and he tried to keep his composure that threatened to shatter at any given moment.

In the midst of the rubble of the Wayward Wind Temple, he held Yuan Xuelan close to his chest. His one good arm around the younger's shoulder, his fingers in those wild black locks. His voice was choked, throat dry, "No, Xuelan, you can't die. Stay awake. Stay with me."

The blood was warm but his body was fast growing cold.

With a shaking hand, he took out the highest grade restorative pill he had on him, already knowing that it wasn't enough to mend the wounds on Xuelan's body in time.