Haoyu helped her dry her hair and covered her with the quilt before putting the towel back in the bathroom. The small, bulging mound on the bed reminded Haoyu of the scene he saw every morning those years when he went into her room to wake her up.
For some reason, she had settled into his heart and could never be removed.
His slender fingers traced her eyebrows and eyes, every detail slowly and deeply etched into his heart. The dim lighting, fixed by Yixin, was perfect for sleep. The man wore a gentle smile, elegant as though he had stepped out of a painting, leaving a moment of tenderness for her.
