When Fu Tinghan came back, there was only one lamp lit in the corner of the great hall, most of the space was in darkness, and Zhao Hanzhang was leaning against the bed, motionless.
Fu Tinghan leaned over to look at her. Seeing her eyes red, he handed her a handkerchief and asked softly, "Do you want to have another cry? I've sent them all away."
Zhao Hanzhang let out a breathy laugh. "Everyone is advising me to cry less, not to cry, and you, why are you doing the opposite and urging me to cry?"
"I'm afraid you'll feel suffocated holding it in," Fu Tinghan said. "I know how hard it is to bottle up tears and grief in your heart, so although it's not good to cry during your confinement, I still hope you can let it out."
Zhao Hanzhang fell silent for a moment, wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes, and stopped losing her temper. "I'm fine now. It's just that the hormones during nursing are unaffected. If it were before, I wouldn't have cried over something like this."
