***
The two of them squeezed onto a 1.5-meter wide caregiver bed.
Mai Xiaomai curled her body up in his arms, feeling comfortable.
"Wife, how many days has it been since we've slept together?"
Qiao Chutian asked while stroking her smooth shoulder.
"I think it's been nine days."
"It feels like a century."
"I think so too."
Leaning in his arms, hearing his heartbeat, smelling his scent, it felt so comfortable.
"Sleep, wife, good night."
Qiao Chutian said while caressing her hair.
"Mm, good night, husband."
Mai Xiaomai closed her eyes.
Qiao Chutian also closed his eyes.
The perpetually quick sleeper Mai Xiaomai fell asleep first, while Qiao Chutian, though very tired, couldn't drift off until about half an hour later, when he gradually fell asleep.
He had a dream.
In the dream, he returned to when he was eight years old and saw his mother, completely covered in blood, fall before him.
"Mom—"
He shouted in anguish, his cry breaking through the dream.
