Suddenly, Ning Yi flipped his hand over and pressed down on her hair.
"Ouch," Feng Zhiwei called out lightly, her hand reflexively patting his as she freed her hair. "Behave."
She spoke quietly and warmly, a hint of a smile on her face. She wore her usual gentle and soft expression, but there was just a little bit more thoughtfulness and care. Ning Yi suddenly felt as if tiny candle was lit inside his cold heart, a soft enduring light.
Ning Yi turned away, shuffling underneath the quilt and quickly dressing. Finally presentable, he turned and carefully examined the room, his eyes falling dark as he asked: "What are you burning?"
A frown crossed his face as he continued: "You touched her things?"
"I only know what you needed." Feng Zhiwei replied without turning to face him, seemingly oblivious to the unhappiness in his voice. "No matter how valuable a treasure is, it is not as important as a life."