Ji Shiting paused several times at the end of the sentence. When he finished, the woman in his arms had already closed her eyes.
He placed the collection of poems in his hands aside and quietly studied her for a while until her breathing became even.
That was true. It was already past three in the morning, and she must have been tired after the intimate session in the bathroom.
Afraid of waking her up, Ji Shiting did not move and let her lean into his arms.
I love you. Not just because of how you look, but because of how I look when I'm with you.
Ji Shiting had a good memory. Even though he had only read it once, he remembered the first line of the poem.
