Qianyao's room was exactly what Qingyi had expected.
Everything there had been frozen in place by an array since she left, remaining intact, exactly as it was when she was twelve years old.
The bed was covered with soft, pink sheets, while the shelves on the walls displayed a varied collection of porcelain and stuffed dolls, all arranged with an childlike care.
"Ah…" Qingyi let himself fall onto his back on the bed, lazily stretching his arms out over the soft bedspread as he stretched.
His eyes followed Qianyao's voluptuous body as she rummaged through one of the drawers. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.
From the drawer, she pulled out a small book with a pink cover.
"What's that?" Qingyi asked, propping himself up on one elbow.
"My personal diary," Qianyao replied, opening it absentmindedly and skimming through a few pages.
Her face flushed almost instantly.
