There was an itch that ran along PingZe's spine, like hundreds of ants were crawling over him, so uncomfortable that he wanted to climb out of his skin. He was ready and waiting, sprawled out on his bed with a sense of nervousness and expectation hanging in the air.
He had never felt this uneasy over anything. He had roamed this earth for well over a thousand years, there wasn't a single thing he hadn't witnessed or experienced. But when it came to XiaoHe, he felt like a newly hatched duckling testing the waters of a small pond. Such a simple thing seemed suddenly too big for him to fully grasp.
He had made sure he was aware of everything, even went as far as memorized every single page ZhiYi had added to his book of 'The arts of the Bedchamber.' Still, here he was, as fidgety as a pure maiden, when in fact, out of the two of them, it should have been XiaoHe who should be feeling this way.
