A soft, warm body entered the sleeping bag. He heard the woman's voice again, followed by her scream. He quickly crawled out of the sleeping bag, only to see a pair of eyes.
The woman's eyes were so bright, he thought. They were like clouds on the plateau, honest, unpolluted.
Of all the people he encountered later, none had eyes like hers, none had a body as soft and nice to hold, and none, despite being in the opposing gazes of many, were willing to look at him seriously, show comforting eyes, or let him hold their hand.
The self-proclaimed assistant said a lot to him. He talked about his name, his age, how he was a famous writer, and how successful he was in managing his career. But to him, all of these, even including the name "Yin Feng", felt distant.
