Tidal emotions surged into memories, and the hand clutching the soft bag of hot stones trembled ever so slightly, a quiet voice gently murmuring in his ear.
Plain little stories came vividly to life from his lips, carrying a hint of childish consoling intent.
Su Jing's dark eyes softly met the candlelight's sparkle, suddenly feeling a sour warmth in her heart, her pulse racing uncontrollably, even her fingertips beginning to warm.
She cherished and listened intently to a story, and he whispered in her ear, reaching out to gather her hair, "Jing, after the story, the ghosts have left, sleep well, I will take you down the mountain tomorrow to buy rouge for your little dark face."
He fetched a Short Flute from his sleeve, handed it to her with a soft laugh, "Jing, don't be afraid, the Divination Flute is for you, they won't dare to hurt you anymore."
It struck her like a lethal blow, Su Jing felt an unbearable pain rising in her throat that she could no longer hide.
