Yan Fengchi held the child with one arm and wrapped the other around her head, pressing it against his own shoulder: "Don't be afraid, it will be okay."
But even he hesitated at his own words. She had seen that wound; it was indeed in the heart. If it were any man present, perhaps there was a 50% chance of survival, but for a frail girl like Chenxing, how much of a chance could there be? He didn't dare to predict.
At this moment, he could only pray to the heavens.
Huanhuan was still comforting nearby: "Little Sheng Sheng, don't cry, don't cry." As she continued to comfort, she added: "Then cry, cry loudly, cry with all your might. Let your mother hear you, tell her she still needs to take care of the two of you, she can't have anything happen, cry, cry..."
The result was that the young Little Sheng Sheng, a mere three-month-old, actually raised his crying by a few notches.
No one knew where he found such a loud voice!
