He was as handsome as an immortal—devastatingly stunning.
But it gave off an unrealistic feeling as if he was someone that she could never touch.
"Young Master…" Qingjiu sat down at the head of his bed, quietly staring at him. She sighed. "My father wants to choose a husband for me. I know he is serious this time..."
There was no answer except silence.
She sighed again. "I hope you will wake up soon so that Father would have no more to say about this."
The man in the bed showed no signs of waking up.
He looked calm and composed.
Qingjiu reached out, trying to hold the man's palm. But the thought of the burning heat had made her hand stiffened.
She knew that touching him would put her in pain, but she insisted on doing so.
