After Qin Qingqing and Qin Mu finished their phone call, Mo Ziye also hung up.
He walked over, pulled her into his arms, gently stroked her hair, and said in a warm voice, "Qingqing, you should sleep first."
"Brother Ziyi, aren't you going to sleep?"
He had just returned after the explosion.
Qin Qingqing looked up into Mo Ziye's pitch-black eyes, knowing he was still injured, not wanting him to overwork.
"Ye Zhan is here, my cousin and he are downstairs; I'll come back later."
Mo Ziye lightly curved his lips, with his long jade-like fingers teasing a strand of hair.
"You're still injured."
Qin Qingqing pouted unhappily.
"It's fine, I've already rested for a few days."
Mo Ziye smiled reassuringly, then bowed his head and kissed her pouty lips gently, his brows infused with tender indulgence, "Be good, sleep first, I'll be up soon."
"Then I'll go downstairs with you."
Qin Qingqing's heart aches for his injury.
