Gradually, Wei Anning calmed down, her furrowed brows slowly relaxed, and she fell into a deep sleep. Leng Youchen used a blue handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her forehead, then leaned down, kissed her lips, and lay down beside her, pulling her into his embrace.
"Sleep, my dear wife, I'm here with you," he whispered.
The two of them slept until the middle of the night before waking.
When Wei Anning woke up, she felt something warm like a furnace against her back. She turned her head and saw, under the light, the man with his face like a painting, his eyes tightly closed, sleeping soundly.
From this angle, she couldn't see the wound on his hairline.
The sleeping man, stripped of his usual coldness and sharpness, looked like a child.
Slowly, she reached out her hand, tracing the contours of his handsome face through the air, his low voice echoing in her ears, "Do you hate me, will you hate me forever?"
