Ten minutes ago, the house was bustling with noise; now, it was enveloped in silence.
In one corner of the house stood two figures, ramrod straight. A gentle breeze blew by, causing their clothing to flutter gracefully in the wind, tracing beautiful arcs through the air.
Mo Shangjun stood beneath the eaves in a cool shaded area, idly standing there with her gaze fixed straight ahead, eyeing the man's chin and the alluring Adam's apple.
Ya Tianxing stood in the sunlight. The warm March sun was soft and warm, casting a comforting glow on him. Light slanted into his eyes, instantly dispelling any trace of his usual cold detachment to be replaced by a deep warmth, as if it could melt frozen tundras and age-old ice.
Ya Tianxing made his movements very gently, his fingers weaved through Mo Shangjun's hair, tidying the strands one by one. Gradually, her disheveled hair was combed neat and hung down smoothly.
