Zhang Mingrui and Xie Junjie had the habit of taking a nap in the mausoleum every afternoon after lunch, right on top of their mother's body.
Although Xie Jianyu was unable to interact with his sons, they were more than happy to cuddle and inhale his sweet, calming scent.
The constant flow of spiritual power that permeated the air kept the room warm, just perfect to make two little boys fall asleep within seconds.
"Junjie," Zhang Mingrui mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of a dream.
"Mmm..." came Xie Junjie's answer, his own consciousness clinging to the sheets like a spiderweb in the morning dew.
Zhang Mingrui reached out to touch his brother.
"Does your horn still hurt? Ouch!!!"
A sharp whip of Xie Junjie's tail made the latter withdraw his hand with a cry of pain.
Xie Junjie mumbled against the quilt, "You are not allowed to touch my horns, ever again."
