Manman's neck seemed like a turtle retracting into its shell, occasionally shrinking into her collar to make room for her husband's movements.
Their faces, unwittingly so close there was no space between them, they could hear each other's breath.
Yet it seemed completely normal to them, for they were husband and wife.
This scene, this realization, once again stabbed into Jiang Yue's heart like a knife, and her blood flowed profusely.
Her fingers, scraped across the wheelchair like knives, leaving trails of marks.
"Someone is here." Manman, the little wife, deliberately reminded her husband.
"So what? You are my wife, and I am your husband," Jiang Da Shao maintained, as always, a justified pride in snatching kisses from his wife's lips.
"Jiang Da Shao!" Jiang Yue raised her voice.
"Someone is calling you." Manman, the little wife, deliberately tugged at her husband's sleeve.
