Wen Ran was initially startled, her limpid eyes passing a hint of bewilderment.
As Mo Xiuchen's distinctively jointed hand covered her forehead, she slightly trembled, then grabbed his large palm, "I'm fine."
Mo Xiuchen narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed, "Your forehead isn't hot, nor are the palms of your hands, so why are your cheeks red?"
"It might be due to poor air circulation, don't worry about me, I'm really fine."
Wen Ran made up an excuse.
Avoiding his concerned and puzzled gaze, she whispered, "Don't just stand there, sit down."
He stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly lifted her chin with his long fingers, leaning closer.
...
Originally, Wen Ran had been waiting for him to come back because she had something to say to him, but in the end, she had fallen into a deep sleep.
It was another dreamless night.
