Tang Yuran stood by the bed, carefully observing his eyebrows and eyes.
So many years had passed, and the youthful immaturity in his features had faded away, replaced by more distinct and angular contours. Below his straight nose was a simpler and cleaner jawline.
Yet the way he slept with his eyes closed still bore no difference from his boyish days, his delicate eyebrows tightly furrowed, seemingly in great discomfort.
Tang Yuran stood watching him for a while, then let out a soft sigh with a shake of her head in helplessness. She reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, intending to cover him.
However, just as she was pulling the blanket over his shoulders, her slender wrist was tightly grasped by a long and powerful hand.
The person before her suddenly opened his eyes, the depths of his gaze seeming to harbor an endless abyss, yet the look in his eyes was still somewhat hazy as if he hadn't fully awoken.
