Princess Xinyang didn't hand him the bowl and chopsticks, instead she turned and placed them on the stove.
Xiao Liulang had not expected her to suddenly wake up, nor had he expected her to condescend to come into the small kitchen. Princess Xinyang had not expected to enter herself either.
The two of them thus unexpectedly faced each other.
It was not the back of the head, not the back, nor the vague sleeping face swallowed by the darkness of the night, but a clear full face under the broad daylight.
Stripped of his fourteen-year-old's immaturity, he had acquired a restraint polished by the years. Though he turned just nineteen in over three months and should be at an age of youthful naïveté, he had already become prematurely steady.
He had grown taller, but his cheeks seemed to have thinned out.
