Yu Siqiao's lips were pressed together, and upon closer inspection, a tear quickly slid down.
He was now certain.
She was crying.
Her breathing remained steady and even, lost in slumber, perfectly quiet.
Yu Siqiao, who initially intended to wake her up, paused his action, slowly lowered his hand, and gently caressed her face.
His fingers tenderly brushed across her brow and eyes, the moisture dampening his fingertips, causing an emotional ripple within Yu Siqiao—his breathing tightened, and the smooth, tender sensation from the palm of his hand, belonging to her, was irresistible. His thumb couldn't help but rub slightly over the skin.
So smooth, so tender.
Even touching was this comfortable, what would kissing feel like?
As this thought sprung up, Yu Siqiao felt as if guided by some invisible force, and before he could react, his movements grew lighter and closer, ever closer...
Mo Shu had a dream.
