Exhausted from the torrent of emotion and the lack of sleep, Lin Muyu's body went completely limp in his arms. She had finally fallen asleep.
Wang Mo slowly adjusted their position. He sat down carefully on the ground, leaning his back against a thick tree trunk.
He pulled her fully onto his lap, positioning her head comfortably against his chest. Her small, relaxed body felt feather-light against his own powerful frame.
He looked down at her peaceful, sleeping face, committing every detail to memory.
He wanted to cherish this time. This quiet, stolen moment where she was utterly vulnerable and intimately close to him. He knew this fragile peace would not last.
When she woke up, she would be back to the reserved, cold female. The wall would go up again.
She was terrified that if she mated with another man and he died too, she would completely lose herself in the bottomless, terrifying abyss of grief. She was afraid of loving and losing again.
