Last night's intimacy felt like it just happened.
Qiaoqiao had clearly slept for many hours, but she was still overcome with drowsiness.
When she turned over, her hand accidentally hit the bedside table, the pain woke her up and that's when she noticed it was already dawn.
Getting up and sitting by the bedside, she saw that the French windows were more than half open. Yun Mo must have opened them for her. The morning breeze was very refreshing; blowing in from a distance, it brought with it the coolness of the aftermath of a rain, wafting gently.
"What a lovely scent." Qiaoqiao took a whiff, looked in the direction of the fragrance, and saw a pot of jasmine flowers on the bedside table.
The branches and leaves of the flowers looked particularly vibrant; traces of recent pruning were clearly visible, revealing Yun Mo's handiwork everywhere.
Next to the potted plant, there was a note.
It was Yun Mo's handwriting, as vigorous and powerful as always:
