The smell of disinfectant in the hospital was pungent, as if it inherently exuded a sense of exclusivity, sending out a warning signal to those who didn't belong there.
Chang Xuyu, overwhelmed by fright, had a stress reaction. As soon as she stepped through the hospital entrance and caught the smell, her stomach churned violently, and she couldn't help but squat down and dry heave. Yi Zhuo helped her to the restroom, where she vomited bile and felt a little better.
Chang Xuyu's face was haggard and pale. As she leaned on the doorframe and walked out step by step, she looked as fragile as a narcissus by the riverbank.
Fragile, easy to break. The aqua-blue coat she wore made her look even more ethereal and delicate. Now, her sickly cheeks bore faint traces of tears, making her appear so weak that she seemed about to collapse at any moment.
Yi Zhuo frowned, and upon seeing her, said nothing. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a nearby seat.
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