Slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
The corners of his eyes slightly red, tinged with a slight dampness.
That night, Jing Che couldn't fall asleep again.
The words of Ji Junxue kept flashing in his mind from time to time.
[Brother Jing Che, a girl confessed to me, I want to ask your opinion.]
[As long as she's not a woman from society, I have no opinion.]
[Alright! Good night, Brother Jing Che.]
These ordinary conversations, each word was like a sharp sword, stabbing into Jing Che's heart again and again, making it hard for him to breathe.
Yet there was nothing he could do.
He couldn't resist, couldn't shout, couldn't vent, only silently endure.
The night gradually deepened.
Beside him came the even breathing of Ji Junxue.
Jing Che turned deeply to face him.
He reached out a big hand to brush away the strands of hair by his ear, leaned down to gently kiss his forehead, then his nose, his lips, and finally by his ear.
