In the middle of the night, Lin Nuan's anesthesia wore off, and her wound started to hurt, so she squirmed on the bed like a caterpillar.
Vaguely, she felt a warm hand gently stroking her forehead, sometimes brushing against her hair.
This kind of tenderness gave her great comfort, as if the wound didn't hurt so much anymore.
That night, she also had a dream, a distant one...
She dreamed of the time when she had just arrived at the Ning family, unable to let go of her parents' death, often having nightmares and fevers.
Back then, every time she woke up at night, she'd see Ning Shiyu sitting by her bedside, gently stroking her forehead and cheeks, comforting her.
Such beautiful memories—Lin Nuan could hardly tell anymore if they were real, or just dreams.
"Dad, Mom…"
"Dad, Mom…"
Lin Nuan, her eyes blurred with tears, suddenly opened them wide, only to find it was already daylight.
