Fan Zhuo's hand that was holding his spoon froze, and his frail body straightened. He did not lift up his head, but remained silent for a while before he said, his voice sounding a little choked up: "What can I do even if I said it to them? Without proof, my father and brother would never believe it. And if word reached that person's ears, it would only result in that person becoming more anxious to get rid of me. Wouldn't it be better if I keep myself alive a little longer and await a miracle to happen?"
Fan Zhuo's tone of voice was not as carefree as he usually sounded. The repressed and choked up voice made one sad just to hear it.
"Fan Qi trusts that person so much?" Jun Wu Xie asked, an eyebrow raised.
