Xi Jing is always a bit cautious, as if he's afraid of offending someone, which makes him seem a bit pitiful.
Chuzheng lies in bed, looking outside through the window.
This house has poor soundproofing, with all sorts of sounds erupting from the left and right, making it impossible for Chuzheng to sleep.
Next door, for reasons unknown, they started hitting the child again, and the child cried miserably.
On the other side, the symphony of life was playing out.
Both occurrences happening simultaneously, perfectly coordinated.
Chuzheng suddenly sat up.
Xi Jing was lying on the ground, covered only with a thin blanket, probably accustomed to this environment; he was sleeping soundly.
Chuzheng leaned over, observing the boy on the floor in the dim light.
She bent down and brushed her fingertips against the boy's hair, twisting a strand around her fingers, then nonchalantly releasing it.
So soft... I'll find a chance to pull it later.
