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The evening wind roared fiercely, balloons danced with the breeze, resembling countless adorable little animals frolicking in the sky.
He Xing, holding a handful of balloons, experienced an illusion for a moment, feeling as if the balloons in his palm were his happiness, that the more balloons he had, the more happiness he possessed.
Now that his hands were full of balloons, did that mean he was brimming with happiness?
He Xing placed all the balloons in Fu Han's room. Then he went back to his own room to take a shower. He had been running around, worried about Fu Han, and had sweated, feeling uncomfortable all over.
By the time he had bathed and changed into comfortable home clothes and came downstairs, the dining table was laden with delicious meals, their tempting aroma wafting through the air. He Xing's stomach growled with hunger, a hunger that made vocal demands.
