When Ningyan woke, his body felt sore but not nearly as painful as before.
What is going on?
Just as he was about to open his eyes, voices reached him.
"What do you mean someone is trying to kill him?" Yan Wuhen's voice cut through the air, sharp with barely restrained fury.
"He was shot in the back," Rong Yue replied coolly. "You saw the wound yourself. Besides, an attempt happened right in front of me."
"He poisoned as well," another voice added. A calm, low, controlled voice. "It explains the paleness, the cold sweat. The vomiting."
A warm hand pressed gently against Ningyan's forehead.
His heart skipped.
Lan Meishan.
"Is he cured?" another voice asked.
That one made Ningyan open his eyes immediately.
His vision cleared slowly and then froze.
All four of them were there.
Rong Yue stood near the doorway, arms folded, expression stern but eyes sharp with interest.
