The next day, early morning.
The pain in her right arm as she rolled over startled Mo Shangjun awake.
She opened her eyes, not yet fully awake, when she felt a hand from behind reach over, wrap around her waist, and pull her back. She fell directly into an embrace, a solid chest stopped her from resisting.
"Did it hit your hand?"
A familiar husky voice asked softly, strangely pleasant in the quiet morning.
"Mm."
Feeling a bit weary, Mo Shangjun didn't open her eyes. She simply buried her head into his chest and gave a perfunctory response.
Ya Tianxing asked, "Does it hurt?"
After closing her eyes and resting briefly, Mo Shangjun faintly recalled his question and replied, "It's okay."
A light, joyful laugh sounded in her ear.
Mo Shangjun felt him adjust the blanket for her, but she didn't move and continued to sleep.
For once, Mo Shangjun did not adhere to her long-formed biological clock and wake up promptly at six.
