That was indeed enough to scatter even the last bit of dazed thoughts, leaving only instincts to respond to the cultivation technique's operation, under his guidance, blending back and forth, to give birth if so desired, to die if so desired.
...
The small world knows not the sun and moon, Ye Wuming cannot calculate how much storm has passed, yet there is ultimately a time for rain to clear and clouds to disperse.
Ye Wuming lay on the cloud, lost in gazing at the stars beyond the realm, the lost thoughts resting for a long time before slowly returning a little.
A comfortable arm rested under her neck.
She turned her head slowly with some difficulty, looking at the man's side profile. The man turned to look at her at this moment, the two exchanged a glance, and Ye Wuming instinctively averted her gaze.
Zhao Changhe laughed, reached out to hold her chin and turned it back, Ye Wuming glared angrily.
