Yan Xiaohan held innumerable words within him, but it was like his throat was clogged up with a ball of cotton. He used so much strength in his arms, he nearly cut off the airflow of the man in his embrace. His soul flown off to who-knew-where and body wholly numb, awareness only came back to him in increments after a long while. He could feel Fu Shen gently comforting him along his back.

In the wake of sensing the rhythm of his pats and caresses, his heartbeat slowed down, bit by bit. There was a voice that broke out from the bottom of his heart, and he complied with his feelings, saying the phrase aloud automatically.