He Lang had been gone for seven days. On the morning of the eighth, just as dawn was breaking, Xue Yue heard a knock on the door before she had even woken up.
Xue Yue shot up in bed. She listened closely—it was He Lang's voice.
Xue Yue threw on some clothes, got out of bed, and opened the door to see a travel-worn He Lang standing there, holding a bag.
"You're back."
He Lang gazed at Xue Yue. Her hair was a bit messy, her cheeks were flushed, and her large, glistening eyes, full of joy, were fixed on him. The hand gripping the bag's handle tightened.
He Lang came inside, shut the door, tossed his bag on the floor, and swept Xue Yue into his arms, carrying her toward the edge of the kang bed.
Holding her tightly in his arms, He Lang finally felt certain about something.
For the past several days, her face was all he could see whenever he closed his eyes, leaving his heart feeling hollow. But in the moment he embraced her, that emptiness was instantly filled.
