She traced the strokes of characters on his back.
Mu Liang's eyelashes trembled slightly. He recalled that absurd and never-should-have-happened wedding. Qiao Xia, with so much heartache yet pride, confessed her love to him, also tracing the strokes of "I love you." But he chose to walk through life with another woman.
Qiao Xia continued writing, stroke by stroke, over and over.
Each stroke etched a pang of heartache onto Mu Liang's heart.
Twenty minutes later, Qiao Xia's breathing finally calmed.
Mu Liang turned slightly, and to his surprise, she didn't wake. He frantically touched her forehead and felt a warm heat, inexplicably letting out a sigh of relief. Under the moonlight, he greedily and carefully studied her face. Having lived in the desert oasis for the better part of a year, her skin remained fair with a healthy blush; her long, curled eyelashes like a shy and obedient child, gently cast a small shadow.
He could visualize her features even with his eyes closed.
