When Li Xinyuan came to himself later, the sting in his eyes — though somewhat ebbed now — drew a sharp hiss from him. Hands flying to his face, the surgeon touched them gingerly, breathing a sigh of relief after determining the pain to be simply from crying too long.
Crying. Oh heaven, he had cried last night. Not just cried, but completely broken down sobbing.
Because of the pain in his eyes and head and every part of his body.
The memory of him crying so pathetically in Liu Mingyun's arms sent a surge of electric current under his skin; blood rushed up his neck, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. Covering his face, Li Xinyuan let out a low, rumbling groan, wishing he could dig up a hole, crawl in it and bury himself in it forever.
Shoulders hunched, he shook his head, embarrassment suffocated him, its claws digging deep in his chest. Why did he have to cry like that? Why? Why? Why had he let his pain and emotions get the best of him last night?
