But the others? Listen, what kind of talk is this?
Sheng Jianan felt a sudden surge of anger for no reason. He stretched out his long arms and pulled Tang Yanqi to him: "You’re welcome, I don’t mind helping you practice something else."
Sheng Jianan’s words seemed to leap out of his throat, one word at a time, and immediately, Tang Yanqi was lifted horizontally by him and thrown onto the bed.
Yes, thrown onto the bed, without the slightest hint of tenderness or consideration.
Sheng Jianan quickly turned off the light, and the bedroom fell into sudden silence. Neither Sheng Jianan nor Tang Yanqi spoke. Just like the night before, one tossed and turned declaring his displeasure, while the other clung to the edge of the bed, motionless.
Tang Yanqi was very particular about her sleeping environment. In a new place, she usually couldn’t sleep well the first few nights, or even at all. But here, it seemed she had no such issue. If yesterday she slept well because she was tired, today it was simply because she was sleepy.
The stiffness in her body gradually relaxed, and Tang Yanqi slowly drifted off to sleep. After Sheng Jianan noticed she had fallen asleep beside him, he became even more frustrated. How could she fall asleep so fast while he, the dignified eldest son, was tossing and turning because of her?
Sheng Jianan sat up directly and turned Tang Yanqi over with a stretch of his hand.
Outside the window, the clouds that covered the bright moon scattered, and a beam of bright moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains onto Tang Yanqi’s face—a grayish but brilliant moonlight.
Sheng Jianan’s hand suddenly paused. Tang Yanqi’s long hair spread over the pillow, not yet dry, appearing even more disordered. Her small face seemed especially pale amidst the messy strands, with lips and eyelids slightly dark, she looked like a vivid black-and-white photograph.
She appeared extremely serene, her head turned to the side, revealing the smooth neck on the other side, slender and graceful like a sleeping swan, elegant beyond compare, stunningly beautiful.
In terms of appearance, Tang Yanqi was the type that became more attractive the more you looked, not initially striking. But now, she truly amazed Sheng Jianan, and the annoyance in his chest began to calm down due to her tranquility.
For the first time, Sheng Jianan reached out and gently arranged Tang Yanqi’s hair, a rare moment of softness flashed through his mind. How to describe this feeling?
It was too wonderful, a feeling Sheng Jianan had never experienced before, like a feather softly landing at the bottom of his heart, or like a spring bud suddenly bursting open, revealing the delicate petals inside.
This was a feeling he had never experienced in his over twenty years of life.
He hadn’t met Miss Tang for the first time today; they had known each other since they were young. Although the memory wasn’t deep, Sheng Jianan was sure that back then she never gave him any special feeling—if anything, perhaps more of an aversion.
Sheng Jianan withdrew his hand and moved gently to the other side. What was this? Was it true that women experience an eighteen-year transformation?
He remembered that at the time, she wasn’t called Tang Yanqi. What was she called? Sheng Jianan couldn’t recall for the moment, but it wasn’t important.
This small episode became a lullaby for Sheng Jianan, who turned over again, closed his eyes, and before long, went to meet Zhou Gong.
Early the next morning, Sheng Jianan opened his eyes to find that the bed in front of him was still neatly made, without a single wrinkle, as if no one had slept there at all.