Time trickled away, minute by minute. When Wen Ting finally cried herself out, she fell into a deep sleep within Qi Yue's embrace. Her long eyelashes still glistened with teardrops, making her look even more deserving of love and care.
Qi Yue only had one arm left, and he was relatively weak. It took some effort to lift Wen Ting onto the bed, cover her with his quilt, and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. He whispered, "Sleep, sleep. When you wake up, everything will be better."
Qi Yue didn't leave nor delve into the memories Wen Ting's father had given him. Instead, he sat by the bed, holding Wen Ting's delicate, soft hand with his remaining left hand, watching over her somewhat pale face. The red scales on Wen Ting's body gradually faded, leaving her completely bare. Yet, even if Qi Yue hadn't covered her with his bedsheet, he would still be there, quietly watching over her at this moment.
