He and His Black Moonlight

I didn’t know how he would choose to torture me next.

But I wasn’t afraid anymore.

My throat felt dry and raw as I rasped, “Shen Jing, you…”

Before I could finish, he pulled me into his arms with a forceful, one-handed yank.

The pressure was so intense I half-suspected he was trying to suffocate me against his chest.

There was a faint tremor in Shen Jing’s breathing, as if he were holding onto something he’d lost and finally regained with a sense of devotion.

Since I was sitting on the floor,

he was practically kneeling on one knee before me, wrapping his entire body around mine.

His voice was thick with a complex mix of lingering tenderness and agony:

“Manman?

“Is it really you?”