Three years after the surgery, Jing Yan had recovered very well. There was a time when she faced Luo Beichen every day with a bald head, and of course, she often asked him, "Do I look very ugly like this?"
Luo Beichen would always patiently cajole her, "One day, you will age as well, your hair turning grey, your teeth falling out, but even then, I will never let go of your hand. So please, Mrs. Luo, be at ease, Mr. Luo has very sound morals and would never do anything to let Mrs. Luo down. Besides, I actually quite like your bald look. It gives me the illusion of teasing a little nun at the Nunnery."
A flock of crows flew over Jing Yan's head. "What about Mr. Luo's morals?"
"They can only be put aside temporarily when I'm with you." Luo Beichen was a man, a normal man with needs, but because his wife was frail, he had been living like a monk for some time.
