March 20th, 5:45 AM — Base -> Tenth Floor
——
Qinglan slept with her cheek on my chest, one leg hooked lazily over mine. The sheet barely clung to her hips.
Her breathing was soft, but steady. Slow enough to know she hadn't woken yet. Her skin was warm against mine, her body relaxed. She didn't cling or hold—she rested like she didn't need to prove anything.
There was a strange comfort in that.
The room was still dim, touched by the faintest edge of sunlight. The blackout curtains were drawn, but a crack between them let in just enough to paint the dust in the air. I could hear the pipes ticking through the wall. The faint murmur of wind against the outer panels of the building.
I didn't move for a while.
My hand rested just above her waist. Her hair smelled faintly like soap. There was a heat between us, but not from tension or lust. Just leftover warmth.
The two women were so different.
