That evening, the flight carrying the pair touched down smoothly at Zhonghai International Airport. Despite the exhilarating journey, Yang Chen felt surprisingly rejuvenated as the plane landed. Having spent nearly a year back in the country, much of it in Zhonghai, he had grown attached to the memories made here. This place was now his home, and the thought of returning filled him with an indescribable longing for the small abode and the people waiting for him.
As they reached the parking lot, Mo Qianni took her luggage from Yang Chen, her eyes gleaming softly under the dim light. "Don't ignore me once we get home," she implored, "and always keep me in your thoughts."
Yang Chen chuckled, "My dear, it's not like you ever let me out of your sight. Besides, I can't control my dreams when I sleep. How can I possibly think of you all the time?"
Mo Qianni, playfully dissatisfied, asked, "Can't you say something nice to comfort me?"
