"But back then, I was just a fragment…"
Wen Qian trailed off. The feeling was quite peculiar.
Feng Hen glanced at Wen Qian, puzzled. He didn't think it was a big deal. In fact, her reaction seemed a bit strange to him.
Wen Qian dropped the subject. 'If I keep asking, I'll just sound melodramatic.'
Seeing Wen Qian still wrapped in the quilt, the man finally seemed to realize. He suddenly stood up, turned, and retrieved a large selection of women's clothing from behind him.
Wen Qian watched as he displayed the clothes before her one by one. There was a wide variety of styles, but the colors were all exactly the same as the ones Feng Hen was wearing.
'He really must love this vibrant orange-red.'
"Your clothes aren't dry yet. You can wear these for now."
The man's voice was soft and deep, as if he were afraid of disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.
