Her voice was low and tired, and just as Lu Moqing was about to swap places with her, he paused. After a moment, he silently turned around and went back to his bed. Qiao Xu let out a sigh of relief as she heard the faint creak of the bed behind her.
Only a dim night light remained shining in the room.
Qiao Xu faced the couch, not paying attention to Lu Moqing.
Lu Moqing leaned on the bed, and in the dim light, his deep black eyes seemed like a dark whirlpool that could pull people in.
After lying down for a while, he turned to look at the couch. His injured side was pressed against the pillow, and the pain from the wound made him frown slightly.
Qiao Xu lay with her back to him, her slender body buried in the soft couch, her breathing steady and even.
Lu Moqing couldn't help but want to go over and hold her, but he was afraid of disturbing her rest and suppressed the urge.
He continued to watch Qiao Xu without blinking, until his eyelids slowly grew heavy and closed.
