The depth of night brought silence, and the moonlight was like water.
The two on the bed appeared to be asleep, without the slightest movement.
Only the air conditioner hanging on the wall quietly churned out cool air.
The night passed without words.
When Xu Qing woke the next day, Jiang He's figure was absent from the bed. The blankets and pillows were piled together. Xu Qing changed his clothes and stepped into the living room, where Jiang He was practicing her swordplay, the sword sweeping through the air with a swish.
The sword moved like a dragon.
With every flash of the sword, a sigh of cold air followed.
"Why are you practicing again?"
Xu Qing leaned against the wall and bypassed Jiang He to wash up at the sink, preferring not to be accidentally sliced by her sword.
Jiang He didn't answer, continuing to whoosh her sword through the air. Winter Melon shrank in his nest, watching her, showing a similar reaction to Xu Qing's.
