Ling Momo quickly shook her head like a rattle-drum and gestured with her hands, just about to speak, when she saw Li Qingshen stand up and walk briskly to her side, bypassing the dining table. He then extended his slender and fair hand towards her.
Ling Momo tried to avoid him but felt her forehead covered by a warm touch. Surprised, she looked up and heard Li Qingshen's gentle voice, full of concern, "Are you feeling unwell?"
It was approaching dusk, and the lights were off inside the house, casting a somewhat dim glow. The man stood against the light, his figure bending over, his contours appearing deep and profound.
He gazed at her, his usually composed eyes now brimming with intense worry and anxiety. That level of realness, like the soft and warm sea, was enveloping her bit by bit.
Ling Momo felt her gaze gradually stretching into a long line, fixated on the man's body, her eyes slowly becoming hazy and dreamy.
