Zimei felt deeply despondent and could only grab the blanket on the sofa and lie down.
The blanket and pillow still carried the unique masculine scent of Ye Cheng. Breathing in this familiar aroma, her heart softened bit by bit.
She greedily inhaled it, eyes open in the darkness, thinking—just being in the same room as him was already more than enough.
She really didn't dare to hope for too much.
Meanwhile, Ye Cheng lay on the bed Zimei had slept in. Breathing in the lingering fragrance of her perfume, he found himself unable to sleep.
Eventually, he opted to lay a mattress on the floor, where he barely managed to fall asleep.
When Zimei woke up, sunlight had already spilled across the window lattice outside.
Unlike yesterday morning, there was no scent of fried rice lingering in the air. Zimei touched her flat stomach, sat up, and looked around. She didn't see any trace of Ye Cheng.
