Silvery moonlight poured into the grand floor-to-ceiling window, casting everything in the room in a veil of silver, dreamy and poetic.
A window was open, and the light, thin curtains fluttered in the breeze.
The edges of the curtains brushed against the man's straight, long legs.
Fu Shiyan just stood quietly behind An Yan.
Though An Yan could not hear, she could feel his presence.
"Yanyan, Yanyan..." the man's voice was tender, murmuring the name he longed for day and night.
An Yan slowly stood up, moved around the chair, and stood in front of the man.
She raised her hand to gently touch the man's gaunt cheeks, eyes full of compassion, "How could you have gotten so thin? It pains my heart."
"Yanyan, I missed you, I was crazy with longing. Thankfully, you are still alive, whole, and right before my very eyes," Fu Shiyan grasped her hand, gently kissing each of her fingers, the back of her hand, and her arm.
He nibbled her snow-white neck and lingered on her little face.
