The night was deep and quiet, and Su Chaoyang's voice had a soothing power that settled the heart.
Mu Xiangwan's black and white eyes stared at him steadily, reflecting two clusters of bright lights, appearing pitiful and frail. "I don't want to, but I just can't control it..."
Su Chaoyang couldn't help but sigh again, as if he had been sighing frequently these days, an state entirely unlike that of a military officer's spirit.
...
Once sure that he would not touch her wounds, he lay on the bed and gently pulled her into his embrace.
Mu Xiangwan's injury was on her waist side. She had been careful not to move and agitate the wound these past few days. Now, being gently held by him and shifted to a different position, she found a bit of relief washing over her body.
