Leng Youchen bent down, picked up the papers filled with drawings of turtles, and flipped through them page by page, his thin lips slightly curving. She truly listened, as he had instructed her not to miss even a stroke, and she wrote his name on each one.
He lowered his arm and looked at her sleeping soundly, feeling irritated. He had told her not to make him angry, but when had she listened?
He stood for a while longer, ensuring she was deeply asleep, before walking to her side and bending down to pick her up. She shifted restlessly, seeking a comfortable position in his arms, and fell back asleep.
Holding her, Leng Youchen strode upstairs and placed her on the large, cold-styled bed. Perhaps the pinned-up hair made her uncomfortable; she rolled over once and continued sleeping face down.
The black dress made her skin appear even paler, with the plum blossom-shaped birthmark on her shoulder blade barely visible.
