Xia Yiran became silent and just as she had decided to leave, Wu Yuxuan's voice cut through the air behind her—low, frigid, and sharp.
"Are you done?"
She froze.
The question, so emotionless yet so weighted, struck her harder than a scream ever could. She turned slowly, meeting his eyes.
But her words failed her, caught somewhere between disbelief and defiance.
Wu Yuxuan didn't wait for an answer.
His voice remained steady, controlled, as he continued, "Chen Lin didn't say anything. She hasn't even woken up yet. And she doesn't believe it was an allergy."
He paused, and something flickered in his gaze—something gentler, almost protective, as he spoke of Chen Lin.
But that moment passed in an instant, replaced again with an icy distance as his eyes settled on Xia Yiran once more.
"I came to that conclusion myself. And before I said anything to you, I made sure I wasn't just accusing you without reason."
Xia Yiran stood silently, shoulders tense, her breathing shallow.
