"So thrilling!"
Wanda, four parts nervous and six parts excited, threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. Then, remembering Susan's advice, she immediately forced herself to calm down:
"Girls should be reserved. I can't be too forward."
After adjusting her voice, she replied in a relatively flat tone:
"Hawking, wait a moment. I need to get dressed."
She really did need to get dressed.
Since she wasn't in the habit of sleeping in clothes, she was naturally in a rather breezy state after leaving the blankets.
She opened the wardrobe, quickly scanned through it, and deliberately picked out a thin, pure-white nightgown from the middle before putting it on.
Of course, she had to be more reserved, but she couldn't let Hawking be too reserved as well, or there would be no chance at all.
Since he had taken the initiative, she naturally had to send him a few signals.
"It's so late. What is it?"
She opened the door and looked at Hawking standing outside, pretending to yawn as though she were about to go to sleep.
"I came to see you—cough, cough."
Hawking had just started to answer when his eyes swept over Wanda in her white nightgown. His breathing stopped for a moment, then he quickly raised his head and coughed twice tactically.
The plum blossom's fragrance came from enduring bitter cold; against the snow, it was especially eye-catching.
"What's wrong? Did you catch a cold?"
Seeing this, Wanda deliberately puffed out her chest and asked with a look of surprise.
Hawking hurriedly conjured a coat and draped it over Wanda, wrapping her body completely.
"Yes. It's a little cold lately, so I've caught a bit of a cold. You should wear more too."
High-level hunters always appear in the form of prey.
Wanda raised