Zhou Bie looked at Anjue opposite him. In the business world, he was decisive and cold-hearted, as emotionless as an insulator. Yet when Ye Xiaoyu had a fever, his entire spirit seemed to droop, and his handsome face was filled with pain, as if he wished he were the one with the fever.
Zhou Bie sighed, "I really don't know how she survived those two years in that small mountain village, with no air conditioning in winter. She didn't have a doctor when she had fevers, and it seems like all of her health problems stem from those two years."
She really seemed like a small, fragile body, as ethereal as the wind, that could slip through your fingers if you weren't careful.
Anjue rubbed his forehead, his handsome face somewhat shadowed. "I will take good care of her."
Zhou Bie sighed; he certainly knew that Anjue would take good care of her.
"She is truly fortunate."
To have met Anjue.
If Ye Xiaoyu had married Chen Ming, whom she liked, there's no telling how weak she would be now.
