The sun gradually sank in the west, the warm orange-red glow on the horizon turning dark purple as darkness swallowed the sunlight, drawing it bit by bit into the river of night.
Wen Yanyu's eyes were half closed. The injury around his waist felt as though flames were tearing it apart, the pain unrelenting for hours.
He was covered in cold sweat, as though he had just been pulled out of the water, the damp strands of hair over his forehead plastered to his face.
The wound across his waist and abdomen covered far too large an area, and he was in a period of continuous pain. Any part of it touching something hard could make him scream on the spot, so no one dared move him.
Fu Hanchuan brought up three quilts and stacked them into a makeshift little bed for Wen Yanyu to curl up in. Although contact still hurt terribly, it at least eased things considerably.
He had been in pain for too long.
Wen Yanyu's gaze was unfocused, his eyes misty and brimming with tears. His consciousness was so hazy that he could not make out what anyone around him was saying or speak himself. Only his slender body kept trembling with each wave of pain.
They had failed to conceal what had happened during the day. A large crowd stood around him, with people continually coming and going.
The production staff came to ask whether they should take him to the hospital.
But the moment they touched the person on the bed and tried to lift Wen Yanyu into their arms, he trembled all over from the pain.
After several attempts.
Seeing that Wen Yanyu was crying so hard he could barely breathe.
No one dared approach again.
Even knowing that this was a necessary