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... Shu’s face was pale and delicate, like a flower silently growing on the edge of a cliff, her fragility carrying an undercurrent of unyielding tenacity.
Shen Han found a chair and sat down beside her.
The medicine in the IV bottle had already gone down by more than half; he looked down at her slender wrist and gently covered it with his hand.
Her wrist was ice-cold, touching it pained his heart.
With the warmth of his palm, the man helped to warm her cold medicine ...
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