Luo Xi was almost dead asleep and when someone woke her up with a pat, she was still so groggy that she didn't know whether she was in heaven or in hell.
Yan Fengchi was lying beside her, watching her adorably struggle to open her eyes.
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and to him, every little movement of hers was so bewitching that it intoxicated him—a standard Fengchi-style passionate kiss. He embraced her and headed to the dining room, bustling about, his voice so tender that it almost didn't sound like the Yan Fengchi Luo Xi knew.
"Have more fish soup, it's good for your health."
Luo Xi glanced disdainfully at the dark and murky fish soup: "Are you sure this is fish soup and not ink?"
However she looked at it, the fish seemed to share a pitiable plight in Yan Fengchi's hands, its death appearing as tragically heroic. She reached out with her chopsticks, prodded the fish's belly, and finally couldn't bring herself to eat it.
