Fu Ying's courage had grown of late, not going back home in the evenings.
The bed wasn't large, yet she obediently curled up in his embrace, her body petite, encircled by his arms, resting in the crook of his arm, now as intimate as lovers.
Fu Ying listened to his heartbeat, feeling her own heart racing as well.
He too was at peace, not stirring further.
Fu Ying took a deep breath and gently tilted her head up to look at him.
The man had his eyes closed, it was unclear whether he was asleep or not, his breathing steady, holding her gently without a move.
Fresh from a shower, he smelled faintly of soap, his hair casually draped in front of his eyes, somewhat long, reaching his nose.
Fu Ying raised her hand to lightly brush aside the stray locks obstructing his view, peering intently at him, scrutinizing him.
His jawline was so perfect, lips slightly pursed; over the years he hardly seemed to change, and though much older than her, he didn't look it.
