"Shen Mosheng, how are you? Are you hurt?" Han Yingying rushed to Shen Mosheng's side, nearly rolling and crawling, her face pale as she frantically checked him over, fearing he might be injured.
"I'm fine, don't worry," Shen Mosheng grabbed Han Yingying's icy hands, his brows tightly furrowed, he asked with some pain, "Your hands are so cold, why aren't you wearing gloves?"
"I was almost scared to death by you, how could I not be cold?" Han Yingying punched him hard and then hugged him and burst into tears, feeling slightly less afraid.
It was a relief that Shen Mosheng was okay, a relief that Shen Mosheng was okay...
"Sorry, I scared you," Shen Mosheng said painfully as he patted her back, hoping to ease her fear.
Having grown up in the army, what he heard most about was discipline and responsibility; he was used to stepping in whenever he encountered injustice.
