Chenxing, half-asleep, nudged his arm and whispered, "Go to sleep."
"Can't sleep." The man murmured a low complaint, "You've slept for so long, how can you still sleep at night? Now I totally understand how you felt back then."
"What?" Her drowsy voice sounded as pleasant as a beautiful song.
"Remember how you'd wake me up when I was asleep, not letting me sleep? I used to get poor sleep nights in a row, always being woken up hazily by you pinching my nose. I used to complain about it in my heart, but now that we've swapped roles, I deeply understand that anxiety and fear."
Afraid that once she fell asleep, she would never wake up again.
Chenxing gradually woke up, in the night with a faint bit of moonlight, barely making out his face. She drew her hand from under the blanket, cupping his face, softly rubbed it a couple of times, then more firmly, feeling a bittersweet ache inside, and simply replied, "I remember."
