"Ranran, your wound hasn't healed, don't move." Mo Xiuchen sternly stopped her.
Wen Ran naturally didn't have his strength and, being held down by him, she could not move; the wound on her abdomen pulled painfully, causing her to frown deeply.
She grabbed her phone and redialed the call from just now; today's call, unlike yesterday's, had no number displayed.
However, even if there was a number, it would have been useless.
The chilling automated message drilled into her ear, "The number you have dialed is not in service."
Mo Xiuchen watched the changes in Wen Ran's expression, feeling an indescribable pain inside, "Ranran."
He called out to her but didn't know what to say.
This feeling was truly awful.
