"You're awake?" Just as I moved my arm, a metallic voice suddenly came from beside my ear, followed by the magnified countenance of an enchantingly handsome man before my eyes.
Zhiyan blinked, surprised by the affection in the man's eyes.
"I want to drink water." Regaining her senses, Zhiyan spoke, her voice harsh and gravelly, nearly startling herself—it sounded like an old man's.
"Alright." Ming Yihan nodded, his voice unusually gentle. If it weren't for the aches all over her body, Zhiyan would have rubbed her eyes to make sure that everything before her was real.
"Be careful." Leaning over, Ming Yihan gently lifted Zhiyan's head and brought the porcelain cup to her lips, his movements tender and cautious, as if he were handling a precious treasure.
"How is it, do you want more?" After she finished the cup, Ming Yihan looked into Zhiyan's eyes and asked softly.
