Yun Qiqi lay on her soft, snowy-white bed in her room, but she slept restlessly.
She seemed to dream of Yan Yan, the man in the dream had that familiar lazy curve at the corners of his mouth, a touch of wickedness, leaning back on the sofa and opening his arms toward her.
He carried a familiar scent, along with a flutter that made her heart race, and a deep-seated longing.
She seemed to shout "beautiful woman," then rushed into his arms.
But as she ran towards him, it was as if something was stopping her from getting close, keeping her from touching him.
At five in the morning, Yun Qiqi opened her eyes and sat up in bed, staring blankly at the dark room.
Her dark eyes were hollow, and her small face was dazed.
After a while, she extended her hand to wipe her face.
Her fingertips touched cold liquid.
