Yan Ye was still asleep. His eyes were closed, and they outlined a beautiful arc on his exquisite face. He was in a deep sleep. Beiting Huang got up, lifted the curtain, and walked over, but he did not wake up.
The window was closed very well, and only a few unknown flowers could be vaguely seen outside. The shadows of the flowers swayed on the window, and spots of shadow landed on Yan Ye's face. This face was as beautiful as an ancient painting. Infinite brushes and ink could not describe its beauty.
Beiting Huang sighed. She was sitting on the chaise longue with her arms around her knees, her bare feet on the edge of the chaise longue. Behind her was Yan Ye, who was curled up and sleeping. It was as if she was sitting in his arms. Her long hair flowed down her back and spread out behind her. Her black inner clothes could not hide her exquisite body. She tilted her head and rested it on her arms. No one knew what she was thinking.
