Fu Zhen awoke to the smell of herbs.
She stared blankly at the top of the tent for a moment, then sat up suddenly. When her gaze met the person sitting by the window, she froze and sat on the edge of the bed.
"You're awake?"
Every word in that sentence had the languid and lazy tone of a hunter facing their caged prey.
Light streamed in from the window behind him, casting a halo on the ground. He was bathed in the beam, his contours sharp and crisp, his indistinct features adding to his depth.
Just as arrogant as when he was a child!
The room had only one door and one window, with the window behind him and the door to his right, and Fu Zhen was indeed like a turtle in a jar—no, no, no, she wasn't a turtle, at least a trapped "beast"!
She lay back on the bed, staring at the tent top for a while, then turned and propped herself up on one elbow, blatantly watching him.
The more she looked, the more incredible it seemed.
