She was ill, and it was Gong Heng who sat by her bed, meticulously and tenderly spoon-feeding her, bite by bite. At night, fearing her condition might worsen, he would sit at her bedside all night until her health was completely restored...
Mu Mian gazed at his face in a daze.
It overlapped with the face that had been by her side constantly when she was a child; countless times, halfway through the night, half-asleep and half-awake, she saw his tall silhouette on the couch by her bed.
At times like those, her heart would feel exceptionally at peace.
He was the warmth in her memories.
Always present.
Gong Heng saw that her gaze remained tenderly fixed on his face, her eyes filled with a different kind of gentleness and nostalgia.
Gong Heng's lips curved gently upward, "What are you thinking about?"
Mu Mian withdrew her gaze from his words, pulling the blanket on her shoulders a bit more snug.
Unconsciously, she blurted out, "Has Sister Chunxue left?"
