She liked it immensely.
Ye Yansheng had been busy all day and was very, very tired. He didn't return to the master bedroom. Instead, he lay on the sofa in the study and fell asleep in the faint light. Sunk in a hazy dream, his brow was full of endless tenderness.
The old record player had been playing before he fell asleep—it was Song Guanyu's song. With her voice accompanying him into sleep, his dreams were all good dreams of her.
On the small table beside the sofa were the roses Song Guanyu had brought back in the early hours. They hadn't withered, even without the nourishment of water droplets.
The rich fragrance of roses lingered in the man's nostrils, and a faint smile played on his lips.
The study door was quietly pushed open, and the creak didn't wake the man on the sofa. Song Guanyu hugged a teddy bear and a thin wool blanket. She paused for a moment, then walked in barefoot.
Because she had cried too much the night before, her eyelids were still slightly swollen. Her moist eyes gazed for a long time at Ye Yansheng's face. The fatigue was gone from his expression; his chest rose and fell gently. He had expended a great deal of physical energy and psychological pressure. Now, at home, he had shed his weariness and sunk into a sweet dream.
She placed the teddy bear on the table, then shook out the thin blanket and gently laid it over Ye Yansheng. Song Guanyu crouched down, hugging her knees, and stared unblinkingly at Ye Yansheng's sleeping face.
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