Shen Qinghe hurriedly followed him and watched as Dongfang Wuya climbed onto her own bed, even hugging her pillow which she used to sleep with, performing a series of actions as if he had done them countless times.
He seemed as comfortable as if he were in his own bed, even though this was her bed.
Dongfang Wuya hugged the pillow and sniffed at it, then frowned, "Why doesn't it have your scent?"
Shen Qinghe was rendered speechless by Dongfang Wuya's question.
Dongfang Wuya sniffed again, "You have a faint scent of fresh grass about you, it should be on the pillow as well, why isn't it?"
Shen Qinghe had heard more than once that she carried the scent of fresh grass, but Dongfang Wuya had never met her before, how could he know about it?
Why did she feel a strange sense of familiarity when she saw Dongfang Wuya?
Even seeing him lying on her bed, she felt it was only natural...