When Li Meirong's consciousness resurfaced, Mo Cheng was long gone.
A discontented whimper escaped her lips as she sluggishly rose from the floor. Snowball moved straightaway out of her lap and went to sit at the corner near the stove area, he seemed strangely on edge.
The cabin was covered with the soft light of a fresh new day and Li Meiring had realized she had been fruitlessly cultivating all night long. For all these hours, her body remained in the same state and her stiff muscles ached badly.
She stretched her legs and neck, glancing sideways as she did so, only to notice her sitting location had been changed. She dubiously reached a slender arm to grasp the pillow from underneath her.
'Zhu Qingyue arranged this?'
After setting the pillow aside, Li Meirong turned to face the bed and was a little surprised to find the 'Sleeping Beauty' still laying there.
She was now much closer to the mattress than before she had transferred herself into the dimension. There was barely an arm's length of distance between her and the man asleep.
Li Meirong bent her back forward and shyly examined him once more. His chest rising and falling rhythmically and his usually cold expression seemed softer somehow.
"He must have been feeling very unwell to be knocked out cold for so long, but I should probably wake him up by now." She whispered softly.
The sound of Snowball's snort could be heard from his hiding spot, yet Li Meirong paid no heed to it.
Just as she was about to shake the man and wake him up, Li Meirong let out a startled gasp as a pair of strong arms encircled her waist, forcefully pulling her down.
Her sharp intake of breath was sealed by Zhu Qingyue's pursed lips pressing against her own.
Unable to cry out with her mouth shut, she moaned in protest and struggled against him, squirming as best as she could and pushing with both hands against his torso. Zhu Qingyue's robe crumpled up in the process, revealing a pale muscular chest peeking from the dark fabric. Li Meirong's dainty palms shoving and punching didn't faze the man in the slightest. His hold over her was unshakeable.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Zhu Qingyue loosened his hold, permitting Li Meirong to back away ever so slightly. She heaved a sigh of relief and attempted to remove herself from his grasp.
The silver-haired man uttered a low guttural sound of objection, tightening his arms around her once more.