Xiang Yimo set down his pen and closed the document.
He approached the sofa, squatted down in front of Zhong Lingling, gazing at her skin, smooth as if sculpted from cream. He couldn't help but raise his hand, wanting to touch her delicate face. His hand froze in midair, just centimeters from her face, but he withdrew it, worrying about waking her.
Concerned that Zhong Lingling might catch cold sleeping like that, he carefully lifted her in a horizontal hold and walked toward the guest resting room within the office.
The rest room was both expansive and luxurious. Xiang Yimo usually took his naps there; it even had a bed that was no different from a five-star hotel's presidential suite.
Xiang Yimo laid Zhong Lingling onto the soft, large bed.
After covering Zhong Lingling with the quilt, Xiang Yimo looked down at the woman lying beneath him.
