Yue Li woke up half an hour later, her gaze blurry; she found herself lying against her usual bed—her son's chest. Dazedly gazing up, she found his eyes were closed as he leaned against the dark stone; he was taking a rest.
She looked at him for a bit, a second later, smiled, and went back to sleep on top of him.
"If you had a father, he would be cursed to have a son like you," she muttered.
Maybe Han Li had heard it; he cradled her gently in his embrace, and she silently snuggled deeper into him like a squirrel in its nest. Just like that, more time passed.
Once again, Yue Li woke up, dazed to find that familiar sensation of her son's tongue gently exploring her lips and fighting with her tongue in a battle for dominance. A battle where the son always conquered the mother. But she didn't push him back instinctually; her instinct had long become one to continue the kiss.