Tang Qi jolted awake from his sleep.
The nightmare vanished in an instant, leaving only a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. At first, he thought the mire of his dream had seeped into reality.
But a moment later, after gently pushing aside the snow-white arm resting on his chest, he realized Catherine had been unconsciously stroking his chest in her sleep—
Pressure on the chest was indeed a common trigger for dreams.
It had not been long since they finished, and the girl was sleeping lightly.
His movement drew a drowsy, soft murmur from her:
"Is it morning?"
Tang Qi glanced at the darkness outside the window. Not a trace of daylight had broken through the blackness; only the intermittent, lively mating calls of nightingales sounded outside.
"Not yet."
"You're sweating so much."
The girl was still a little sleepy, but almost instinctively wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of her hand.
Tang Qi's breathing gradually steadied.
"I had a nightmare."
"What did you dream about?"
Tang Qi tried to recall the dream, only to find that he remembered nothing.
But vaguely, he seemed to recognize the source of that fear:
"Maybe that assassin this evening left me on edge.
I've been wondering who has their eye on me—
I need to find the answer myself."
Tang Qi had considered waiting until his book was officially published and he had confirmed that his fame had increased before heading into the dungeon to investigate the legendary [Dragon Hoard].
While waiting to make a name for himself, he could spend a few more days bathing aboveground and thinking up dwarf jokes.
But this sudden threat had all but shattered Tang Qi's vision of a peaceful life, making him realize that he should not