When a person's panic reaches its limit, they can shatter their own beliefs, and at that moment, Lei Zijia, having exerted his utmost effort, still couldn't wait for Shen Xiaoman's recovery. He, a man who had never believed in ghosts or gods, actually prayed to "Heaven".
Unfortunately, the comatose Shen Xiaoman couldn't hear his promises...
He held Shen Xiaoman tightly, as if by doing so, he could stop her from leaving.
For a long, long time, it seemed as though an entire century had passed by.
Lei Zijia suddenly felt a pair of small hands touching his face. Startled, he immediately let go.
Somehow, Shen Xiaoman had awoken, and although her small face was still as red as a tomato, her eyes were bright and wide, staring straight at him.
"Xiaoman, Xiaoman, have you woken up?"
Lei Zijia touched her forehead and immediately filled with elation. The fever had indeed subsided, which proved her body had successfully fought off the illness; she had won.
