When she reached out to touch her face, it was icy cold, and only then did she realize she had really been crying.
Su Yan looked around but did not see Gu Chaohan's figure, although his presence lingered in the room.
She tentatively turned over but suddenly realized she was utterly weak, and every inch of her skin felt sore and soft.
The weather was getting colder; even though the windows were tightly shut and the heater was on, it couldn't stop the cold from invading.
She lay on the bed for a while before getting up and walking out of the bedroom.
Gu Chaohan was sitting on the sofa in the living room, a faint glimmer of red light between his fingers.
But he wasn't smoking; he just let the cigarette burn on its own.
He faced forward, his posture showing his back to her, his usually neat short hair looking a bit messy.
After a few seconds, he extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.
