Time seemed to have stopped at that moment.
Wen Xian just gazed at his face so close at hand, at his dense black eyelashes, at his slightly drooping eyelids, at his unattainably high nose bridge...
This was the first time the two of them had been so close.
But it came so unexpectedly, so suddenly.
She saw every inch of his face clearly, even the small scar slightly covered by the black fine hair on his temple.
A wind blew.
It tousled her hair.
It seemed, it also stirred her...
A flicker passed through the depths of Wen Xian's eyes, rarely revealing a touch of profound and inexplicable meaning.
The cigarette was lit by his slight inhale, and a faint crimson light glowed; as he left, the smoke spilled from his nostrils.
His voice seemed to have been smoked through, and when he spoke again, his voice was deep and hoarse, "Got a light, thanks."
After he spoke, he turned around, the cigarette clamped back between his lips, his hands resumed their busyness.
