The moon was cold and the stars were high. Though it was just after the first spring snow had melted, the thaw was colder than the fall.
At this time of night, the sudden spring wind brushed over the body, bringing a chill that seeped from the inside out.
Fang Jie felt as if he were in an ice cellar; he unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, but the more he hugged, the colder he felt.
He couldn't help opening his eyes.
In a haze, he let out a huge yawn and looked around: the carriage was parked at the edge of the forest.
The people traveling with them, lying or sitting, were already asleep.
Chen Dinghai was sitting cross-legged not far from him, meditating.
He seemed to hear a sound and opened his eyes to glance over.
"What's wrong?"
He asked casually.
Fang Jie hurriedly shook his head:
"Nothing, nothing."
He glanced at the campfire beside him; it was about to go out.
