Qu Feitai hadn't slept this comfortably in a long time.
He slowly opened his eyes and found the car empty.
A faint, elusive fragrance lingered in the air, a scent etched deeply in his memory and haunting his dreams.
As his thoughts returned, he suddenly felt his head resting on something soft.
Qu Feitai blinked, instinctively turning his head.
The car window had blinds drawn, but a large swath of sunlight streamed in from the front seat. Dust danced in the light and shadow, like playful spirits.
Ming Jing sat at the boundary between light and dark, her long hair quietly draped over her shoulders. Her fair, beautiful side profile was composed and gentle, her high, delicate nose like a solitary peak in a mountain valley, wrapped in mist, a vague and lonely figure.
She sat quietly, her eyes half-closed, as if in deep meditation, breathing so softly it was barely audible.
In this suffocating silence, Qu Feitai suddenly raised his hand to cover his heart.
