And a certain someone with a stomach ache was leisurely peeping at them from the door gap.
"Luoz, how are you feeling?" Zhang Yuan pushed open the bedroom door and saw Luoz looking at her weakly.
Feeling a twinge of sympathy, Zhang Yuan reached out to feel his forehead, "No fever. Is there anywhere else you're feeling unwell?"
"Does feeling uncomfortable in my heart count?" His blue eyes held a hint of sadness and dependence.
Zhang Yuan looked at him incredulously, finding it hard to believe a man could show such an expression, yet she saw it—so real, so tender.
While Zhang Yuan was deeply immersed in his dependence, Luoz held her hand, "Ayuan, I miss you so much, so much. Without your scent on the bed, I don't know how to sleep. Without the taste you add to the meals, I don't know how to swallow them. Without your scent in the house, I'm left with only Haoyan to rely upon, Ayuan..."
