Su Qinglan waited patiently at the door like a little wife whose husband is returning home after a war.
She sat on the wooden floor, knees pulled up, hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, eyes glued to the doorway as if willing Han Jue and Rong Ye to appear with a certain tall, quiet, handsome husband trailing behind them.
She couldn't tell why, but thinking about him made her heart pound with fear. There was a strange premonition in her heart that refused to calm down.
She felt like something strange was happening, but she couldn't point it out. So she could only hope that Xuan Long would return home safely; only then could she sigh with relief.
Minutes felt like hours. Her heart kept jumping at every little noise outside. Even the sound of rain dripping from the roof made her lean forward like an eager cub.
Finally, the door curtain rustled, the one they had made from hide.
She shot to her feet instantly… even before their silhouettes fully came in.
