When Zhu Qianying woke up in a daze, she thought she was sick.
In the twenty years of her life, this was the very sensation she'd experienced the few times she'd fallen gravely ill.
Her mind was a muddled mess with no energy to lift a finger or even open her eyelids.
With her eyes still shut, she shook her head, hoping to clear her mind.
However, instead of lucidity, a warm object pressed down on her, caressing her head gently – a gesture similar to that of an ideal father she imagined in her childhood dreams, drenched in an impenetrable love.
But then, the greeting that followed jolted her from her stupor and delusions.
"Awake?"
A youthful, vibrant, male bass voice; evidently, it could never be her father's voice - not even the one in her ideals could mimic this intonation.
Because, the owner of this voice, was Yan Shao!
The damned Yan Shao who refuses to leave her alone!
Her memory was entirely roused by his low inquiry.
