Xia Yihan's head was dead by the leaves, and he lived in his arms. He could only hear the heartbeat beating in his chest and the last murmur of depression and pain.

"Leaf ink, what's wrong with you?" Xia Yihan asked shivering.

Ye Zimo raised Xia Yihan's head and said with familiar doting, "Next time don't run in the dark, it's easy to be dangerous."

Xia Yihan turned his lips and wanted to say something. The head of the leaf ink was hanging on Xia Yihan's shoulder.

"Leaf ink, don't sleep, I call people!" Struggling to remove the leaf ink still firmly hold their own, Xia Yihan ran to the...