Paris Streets

Like sleeping in a cotton bed so soft your body sank into it, basking in the perfect afternoon sunlight.

It felt incomparably comfortable. He didn't know how long had passed.

Fang Ran slowly opened his sleepy eyes and saw the unfamiliar ceiling of the inn. There was no sign of that black dress in the quiet night. He was dazed for a second before remembering everything that had happened over the past two nights.

It really had been a long time since he had gotten a proper night's sleep.

Thinking back on the string of events before this, Fang Ran felt as though a long time had passed. He got up from the sofa, sensing that his strength had recovered. The injuries to his arm and side had also basically healed thanks to the Traveler's Hospital Room and the treatment on the plane.

He stretched his limbs hard, listening to his bones crack sharply.

Then he saw Tang Bing lying facedown on the bed, biting the sheets and struggling not to howl.

She looked tearful, as if she were on the verge of death.

Fang Ran: "..."

What were you doing so early in the morning, Gourd?

Speechless at how his junior always came up with new ways to surprise him, Fang Ran yawned and looked toward Osphia, who had clearly been awake for a while and had changed into casual clothes at some point.

Dressed in a soft white silk shirt, she sat quietly in a chair, reading a copy of "Being and Nothingness."

Was this what it meant to come from a privileged upper-class background?

"What happened?"

Feeling the gap between her and ordinary people just from the philosophy book in her hands, Fang Ran pointed at the scene beside him, which looked like Tang Bing had gone