"Ya Chen—" She suddenly looked at him and called him.
He paused slightly, waiting for her to speak.
"If you can stand up, it means miracles exist. Why not give it a chance?" Her voice was choked with sobs.
He quietly said, "It took me over twenty years to stand up, and even then, I haven't reached my satisfaction. It has even less time."
She sobbed, understanding what he meant. He was referring to his eyes, despite such efforts, unable to see again.
He straightened, opened the door, and went out. His voice emotionlessly commanded, "Doctor Han, check her body."
"Yes, Your Highness."
**
The night was deep.
After Doctor Han examined Chu Xinyue's body, he walked to the study.
On the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window sat a silhouette, its profile like a meticulously drawn painting, perfect and orderly, yet exuding majesty and coldness.
