Huayin, who had lost her child, clutched the clothes Yuan Mingting had worn and huddled in her room, muttering something incessantly, her expression one of agony.
She still couldn't bring herself to believe that Ming Ting was gone.
With the morning dew still clinging to him, wearing the same wrinkled clothes from the day before, Yuan Qiran entered the room, his eyes also brimming with deep sorrow.
"Ah Yin, don't be like this," he said. "If Ming Ting sees you this way, he won't be at peace as he departs."
Yuan Qiran's words were like a ladle of water thrown into a pot of scalding oil, splattering in all directions.
Huayin's resentful energy attacked Yuan Qiran, just like that splattering oil.
Her heart, having been gnawed at by all manner of negative emotions throughout the night, shrouded Huayin in an exceptionally dangerous and explosive state.
Yuan Qiran's fit physique, honed from regular workouts, allowed him to fend off Huayin's first wave of attack.
