Jingzhou City, the backyard garden of the Prefect's Mansion.
Although it was late winter, the warm sunshine in the afternoon still made people feel comfortable and comfortable. Zhao Ling leaned on a reclining chair covered with thick cushions and was leisurely flipping through the scroll. Meng Yuan sat next to her, reclining on the back of the chair, burying his head on Zhao Ling's shoulders and closing his eyes, looking extremely lazy and casual.
Feeling the rare appearance of the man beside her being relaxed and no longer tense, Zhao Ling smiled lightly, holding the scroll in one hand and resting it on his back with the other, patting it lightly.
When Yun Yi stepped forward, what he saw was this warm and peaceful scene in front of him. Seeing Meng Yuan's peaceful sleeping face, he suddenly felt that he shouldn't break in at this time to disturb the peace of the two.
