Leng Youchen lifted his eyelids slightly, seemingly very tired, he did not open his eyes but softly hummed an acknowledgment.
Wei Anning thought he must really be tired. She didn't bother him further and quietly massaged him to relieve his fatigue. Before long, Leng Youchen's breathing became even and deep.
Wei Anning gradually lightened her touch until she finally withdrew her hand, silently watching him. The man's features softened, his long eyes closed, and he had lost his usual sharpness, resembling a baby who knew nothing of the world's affairs, pure and flawless.
She reached out, gently closing her eyes, and then traced the contours of his face. She was trained in architectural design, and drawing was a natural talent of hers since childhood. His features were elegantly exquisite, with a perfect golden ratio; a bit more would be too glamorous, a bit less would be too plain—just right, as if a perfect masterpiece from Heaven.
