Xiulote lay on the soft grass bed, tossing and turning restlessly throughout the night.
Listening to the rain outside his window, the endless tapping of the raindrops seemed to knock directly on his heart. His thoughts, like a long wind, flitted away in the blink of an eye, soared to the distant Lake Capital City, and settled on an unfamiliar svelte figure, struggling to discern the smile of the shadow.
Night always quickens one's thoughts. Xiulote clearly understood that this political marriage, as the most crucial guarantee for an alliance between two powers, could not possibly be canceled or altered.
As for Xiulote himself, he felt a bit of awkwardness, yet he was also filled with many longings—imagining, anticipating, the complexity indescribable. In matters of the heart, he was always a youth, whether in his past life or this one.