Miss Miya also heard the knocking and looked back: "Your beautiful Miss Ship's Officer has arrived."
Fang Hong simply nodded: "Yes, she's also my companion."
With a slight twitch of her silver-tipped ears, Miya quietly watched Fang Hong, her pallid silver gaze seeming to pierce through time. The knocking didn't sound again, and the room's air had layers of glittering dust floating up and down, peacefully and slowly.
Suddenly, the girl raised her hand—her hand suspended in midair, fingertips delicate, the color of her skin as if it had just been exposed to the air, milky and lustrous, almost like a piece of glass art with a glistening layer in the afternoon sun. It took Fang Hong a while to understand her meaning, and he hesitated a bit before also raising his hand.
Miss Miya watched with leisure, her expression pure. She watched as the fingertips of both hands met, each palm gently passing through the other, then touching.
