She too wished to see the famous mountains and great rivers; she yearned to wander the world, but more so—to walk hand in hand with the man she loved.
Yu Zexiao lowered his head, and as he looked at her, she too turned to look back at him.
In each other's eyes, they saw the traces of deep, undissolvable affection.
Her breath tangled with his, her gaze drew him in, her scent stirred him—five centimeters, three centimeters, one centimeter, five millimeters, until at last, their lips pressed tightly together.
He held her by the window, she turned her head, he leaned in, like—like a lady in the chamber of olden times who had finally awaited her beloved's return.
Wisps of mist drifted slowly into the pavilion, growing denser, resembling the otherworldly fog from "Liaozhai," obscuring everything around them as if in a fairyland.
Usually, the pavilion was airy from all sides; on a clear day, one could easily see inside.
