The little Daoist nun opened her eyes again and found herself lying on a sickbed in a medical hall.
She blinked for a moment, taking a while to remember that she had just fallen from a building.
She may have died from the fall.
The little Daoist nun closed her eyes.
Well, if she's already dead, she might as well sleep.
"No!"
A defiant, youthful voice suddenly came from outside.
It was quickly followed by a low, magnetic voice," How about riding a horse? Do you want to ride a horse?"
What is this divinely attractive voice? And why is the tone so spoiling?
The little Daoist nun, captivated by these words, pushed back the blankets, got out of bed, and walked towards the window.
She saw a man in dark lightweight armor, lean and sturdy, with hair black as ink and eyebrows that curved into his temples. His facial features were deep and stern, his demeanor icy cold, yet his gaze at his companion held boundless tenderness and adoration.