Leng Youchen rested his chin in the hollow of her shoulder, his tone muffled and a bit aggrieved, "I had something on my mind, couldn't sleep, so I went out for a walk."
The sleepwear on his body still carried the chill of early spring, making it clear that he truly couldn't sleep and had gone out for a stroll. He rarely showed this side of himself in front of her; she always felt he was stratagem and confidence personified, as if there was nothing in the world that could escape his control.
His sudden display of vulnerability unleashed the motherly instinct buried deep in her bones.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, bearing the weight of his heavy body pressing down on her, and softly asked, "What's troubling you? You can talk to me about it. Maybe I can't help you with anything, but I can be a faithful listener."