Jiang Sifan had just come back from the restroom and saw her slumped over the desk, her shoulders shaking. He was startled.
He hurried over, knelt in front of her, and asked softly, "Wen Wan? What's wrong? What happened?"
Wen Wan looked up, her eyes and the tip of her nose bright red. Her voice was so choked with sobs she could barely get the words out. "Sifan, I have to go home. My grandpa's sick—really sick. I don't think I can finish the project for the studio..."
Seeing her like this, Jiang Sifan's heart ached.
He took her hand. It was ice-cold and still trembling.
"When are you leaving?" he asked.
Wiping her tears, Wen Wan said, "I'll see if I can get a ticket. If I can leave today, I will. If not, then tomorrow."
Jiang Sifan stood up, his tone resolute. "I'll go with you."
Wen Wan froze, looking up at him with her still-red eyes. "You don't have to, Sifan. You're busy with the studio..."
