It seemed that the night they skirted death had, at last, passed.
Outside, the sunshine remained scorching as ever. On the grasslands, herds of wild yaks and Tibetan donkeys moved slowly, the scene still resembling Heaven.
Inside the tent, the two of them were looking at each other.
Wen Xian was always articulate and persuasive, which he had witnessed many times. But at that moment, she said nothing, just tilting her head to look at him.
"..."
They stared at each other for several seconds before Lu Xiao suddenly averted his gaze, allowing it to fall on the carpet inside the tent, settling eventually on a simple rack holding an IV bag, seeming somewhat at a loss.
"How are you feeling now?"
he asked, clearing his throat softly.
His voice was low, but it seemed gentler than usual.
Wen Xian's lips moved slightly, her voice still slightly hoarse, "Much better."
Her eyes still fixed on him, they hadn't moved since he entered.
At the moment,
