The small, shared breath between them was the only sound in the dim cave, save for the rhythmic crackle of the dying fire.
Weijie's admission, so plain and yet so devastatingly sincere, made Ningning's heart do a slow, dizzying roll in her chest.
"You'd better not get tired of it.." she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with a drowsy, contented heat. "Because I plan on holding you to that."
Weijie let out a low, rumbling chuckle that she felt more than heard. He tucked her head securely under his chin, his large hand resting protectively over her waist.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy or oppressive like the mountain storm outside; it was soft, like a layer of fresh snow.
Ningning lay there for a long time, her eyes tracing the orange light flickering across the stone ceiling.
The realization that they were actually leaving felt surreal. For weeks, she had been obsessed with the idea of making this cave a fortress.
