Mu Mian was sound asleep in her small room. The room was not big, furnished with a petite single bed, a writing desk, a bookcase with many books about design neatly lined up, and gaps between the books showing signs of being thumbed through.
For the past three years, she had been reading a little every day.
She had also taught herself to paint, often hiding away in her room to practice or going outside to paint. Her skills weren't great, but it was a source of pleasure for her.
Most of what she painted was jewelry and accessories.
Delicate designs.
The door to the room was pushed open, and the person asleep on the bed gave no reaction. As soon as Gong Heng entered, he smelled her unique fragrance, and instantly, the nerves that had been tightly wound for the past three years finally relaxed.
His eyes, filled with obsession, rested on the petite person sleeping on the bed.
It seemed... she had been living well.
Yet he had been living a life worse than death.
