Su Luo was still sitting at Nangong Liuyun’s bedside, quietly watching him.
The contours of his face was firm and determined, hard and strong. It was the most perfect and exquisite outline of any facial features that were combined together. This face was simply too poetic and picturesque, a complexion that could overturn the world. Looking at it couldn’t help but make a person become engrossed in it and it was hard to free one’s self again.
The more one looked, the more mesmerizing it was became. The more one looked, the more one sank into oblivion.
Staring fixedly at Nangong Liuyun’s serene sleeping countenance, Su Luo watched like an imbecile, with an infatuated and intoxicated expression in the depth of her eyes that she herself was unaware of.
Nangong Liuyun had maintained his steady breathing all along, but in fact, he hadn’t slept since the beginning.