The late autumn night was biting cold, even more so halfway up the mountain.
Lu Yuan was crammed in a tent with his close confidant. The great, whistling wind made the tent canvas flap loudly, making it impossible for Lu Yuan to fall asleep.
With his mind wide awake, Lu Yuan thought of the heated bed in the Zhao Mansion back in Taiping City, layered with several mattresses and topped with a wool blanket.
He remembered sleeping at night with one arm under Su Liyan's neck and his other hand resting on her, all under a silkworm-spun quilt.
It was so warm and toasty under the covers—as comfortable as could be.
Nothing like his current situation: a man snoring softly beside him, and a bitter, cold wind raging outside.
This close confidant of his really wasn't picky. He could fall asleep anywhere.
Having grown accustomed to the lap of luxury, Lu Yuan was finding it a little hard to adjust.
