A minute passed.
The man didn't move.
Two minutes passed.
The man still didn't move.
Five minutes passed.
Qiao Jing's eyes were sore from watching, yet the man continued to lie there.
"Huff—huff—"
A somewhat labored breath exhaled from the man's nose, dull and heavy, and his forehead began to seep with a dense sweat.
Was he asleep?
Qiao Jing tentatively increased the force of her hand on the man's face and patted slightly.
"Pat, pat, pat—"
In his sleep, the man drew his brows together like misty smoke and continued to sleep.
It seemed he really was asleep.
Qiao Jing lowered her head to look at the arm pressing in front of her; just as she moved a bit, the man's condition reflex drew her into his embrace.
Was he asleep or not?
An exasperated and helpless expression appeared on Qiao Jing's face.
Both angry and helpless.
She reached out to the man's face again, this time not to pat but to pinch.
