Despite fighting for what seems to be his life in his dreams, ZhiYi appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
Here, in the winter palace of Wu TianLan, hidden away in the high mountains of the north, shielded by countless talismans and spells, spring bloomed all year roudn. The sun beamed through the curtains of clouds. The plum blossom reminded Wu TianLan of years past.
Yet Wu TianLan enjoyed none of it.
The Safehouse was no different from prison. Although he had everything he needed here at his fingertips, a hollowness still gnawed at him deep within.
Once again, Wu TianLan found himself sitting by ZhiYi's side, watching the man's chest rise and fall, how the long dark lashes trembled against the high cheekbones. ZhiYi was almost ethereal in the way his features seemed so gentle, so relaxed in his sleep, something that Wu TianLan hadn't witnessed in a long time.
