"You don't know? The whole hospital knows I'm married; my husband is Shen Mosheng, and he treats me very well, coming to pick me up from work every day."
Han Yingying sweetly swayed the hairpin in her hair, completely forgetting that she had just unwittingly made a narcissistic remark moments before.
"This is the wooden hairpin my husband personally made for me, each pattern he carved by hand, extremely exquisite, unique in the whole world."
Looking at her face, which smiled sweetly to the extreme, Shi Lou felt a sense of dizziness, as if a part of his heart had been hollowed out, empty and cold, and painfully stinging.
He subconsciously raised his hand, wanting to cover his chest, to block out the invading cold wind.
But his hand trembled so badly that he couldn't lift it.
What was happening to him?
