The restful sleep continued for some time until Song Qingchun noticed the warmth on her back had disappeared. She frowned and reached out unconsciously toward the edge of the bed. The depressed side of the bed had returned to its flat state, but a person's body temperature still lingered at the spot that was vacated.
Her frown deepened, and her hand reached out all over the bed in her half-sleeping state. Unable to find Su Zhinian's body, her long and curled lashes flickered twice before slowly opening. The bedroom was quiet. Other than the dim nightlight beside her bed, none of the lights in the room were on.
The windows' curtains about two meters in front of her were not closed, and through the glass, she could see the glittering sights of Beijing at night. Song Qingchun slowly sat up hugging the covers to herself. Her gaze scanned the bedroom, but Su Zhinian was nowhere to be seen.
Where is he? Has he left?
