Afterward, he opened the wardrobe and took out a set of clean clothes, "I’m going to fetch some water."
He walked past her with an expressionless face, his steps staggering, his figure hurried.
Behind him, she tilted her head slightly, then suddenly sighed.
She faintly realized that he seemed to have a knot in his heart, and this knot seemed... not only related to her, not just because she had run away from home at first?
Fearing she might catch a cold, he fetched a bucket of hot water for her to bathe in; after she had finished, he personally helped her get dressed. He was very serious, as if it were a solemn and important ritual taking place in his eyes.
She sat in front of Wood’s dressing table, the clarity of the Brass Mirror was not very good, but she could see him standing behind her. Clumsily, he held up her long hair and, with a wooden comb, gently combed through her damp strands.
"Haoming?" She suddenly turned around and grabbed his hand.
She wanted to ask, but was fearful that her question might poke at the wound on his heart.
"It’s nothing, there’s no need to comb my hair, I’m going to sleep anyway."
He glanced at her and said nothing more, but took a dry towel and insisted on waiting until her hair was dried before letting her go to bed.
This man could be quite stubborn at times.
She shook her head and chuckled softly.
In the middle of the night.
Groggily waking up, Dong Huiying was roused by a noise.
Opening her tired eyes, she turned to look at the man beside her and, by the moonlight, she saw the clear anguish on his face.
His brows were lightly furrowed as if haunted by a nightmare.
"Haoming, Haoming?" She gently nudged his shoulder, but he didn’t wake.
"Haoming, Liang Haoming!?" This time, with more force in her movement, he suddenly opened his eyes, his breathing rough, looking utterly unsettled.
"Wife..." Once he recognized the person before him, he relaxed.
Seeing his long hair damp with sweat, she rolled up her sleeves and wiped the sweat from his face.
"Wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water."
As she was about to get out of bed, he suddenly grasped her arm, "—Don’t go?"
Turning her head, he looked vulnerable, a side of him she had never seen before. His expression was also full of confusion, and those eyes that were always dark and empty now seemed like a black fog, hiding his secret pain.
What exactly was he hiding in his heart?
She sat back on the bed, took his hand, and intertwined their fingers.
His face showed his fatigue.
It seemed that the dream he had before had drained all of his energy and spirit.
When she looked at him again, she found that he had fallen back to sleep. But this time, he slept deeply and steadily, not having those painful dreams again.
She stayed by his side, watching him for a long while, then sighed softly, crawled into his arms, draped her hand over his waist, her body pressing against his, and together they sunk into sleep...
When the man came to her with a small plate of lotus seed pastries, she was amused by his curt "Eat."
"It’s sweet, want to try?"
She pinched a piece of the pastry and brought it close to his lips. Obediently, he opened his mouth but accidentally clasped her fingertips. His tongue swept lightly over her finger pad, he lowered his eyes, but two shades of red crept onto his cheeks.
On the surface, everything seemed normal, and he looked no different than usual. But after what happened the day before, her mood was somewhat heavy, no longer as carefree as before.