The flower bed wasn't purchased, but rather woven by Wang Xiaoqiang himself. Ever since he was young, he possessed this skill, and now with his cultivation, he had his Divine Sense, which made weaving effortless. Lying on the flower bed, Wang Xiaoqiang gazed up at the sky.
Above in the azure firmament, the round moon resembled a clear mirror; among the speckled stars, a few wandering clouds added to the beauty.
The cool nighttime breezes mingled with the sounds of frogs, disrupting the night's tranquility. The rich fragrance of summer flowers, the rustling of leaves in the wind - it all brought coolness and ease, covering up any hint of romance that the night wanted to conceal. A bit more tenderness crept in, boredom slipped away, fantasies multiplied, heat reduced, interest sparked, loneliness lessened, and romantic colors and affections grew more intense.
