For a moment,
it was utterly silent in the darkness.
The only sound was their breathing, rising and falling.
Zheng Xiu didn't move.
He kept telling himself that this was Gongsun Mo's memory. It was all fake.
And yet, the soft, warm touch against his chest was a constant reminder. Even if it was fake, it didn't feel fake at all. It felt just like the real thing.
For an instant, Zheng Xiu couldn't tell if he was in a painted scroll, a phantom dream, or the depths of Gongsun Mo's memory. Or was he truly living as Gongsun Mo, having traveled through time to the Daqian Dynasty of two hundred years ago?
The bedding was cool at first. But after Xiaotao slipped in, both Zheng Xiu and the blankets began to heat up.
Xiaotao stretched her bare feet deep down under the covers.
At first, Zheng Xiu thought she was up to something and flinched instinctively.
But soon, he realized with a sense of exasperation that her action... was a very earnest attempt at "warming the bed."
