But her heart had long been given to Qiao Zhenyu, leaving no room for anyone else, and the Young Master was just a passerby in her life. The two of them were like a diamond and a grain of sand; naturally, he was the diamond, and she could only be the small and insignificant grain of sand.
Xia Qingqian no longer thought about those unrealistic things; she curled the corners of her mouth, tucked the quilt to her chest, and lightly closed her eyes, gradually entering the realm of dreams.
Yet in her drowsiness, she indeed felt the sound of light, slow footsteps growing closer, as if lingering right next to her ear, accompanied by a faint scent of bath soap and a subtle masculine aura in the air, wafting into her nose.
