Li Na's balance tipped like a tower of cards. But before gravity could claim its prize, Lu Jianjun's arm was already there—solid and sure—curling around her waist with a fluid strength that left no room for argument.
"Slow," he murmured. An orderly warning wrapped in silk.
Li Na blinked up at him, her pulse galloping, and she didn't move—not because she didn't want to, but because she was too stunned by the fact that he had remembered.
Her injured foot.
The glass cuts. The pain she'd hidden under sneakers and stubborn pride.
He lowered her gently until both her feet's heel touched the ground again, one hand bracing her arm to keep her from stumbling. His movements were protective the kind that said he noticed more than he let on.
Only once her footing was sure and she gave a small nod, only then did he release her and step back.
