The night was almost over and the food and wine on the table had gone cold.
Lucas carried Oliver, who was about to compose a poem with Cao Yu, back to the bed, and then turned around and was about to leave.
But Oliver was still immersed in the joy in his heart. He couldn't fall asleep in the quilt with his shirt on, so he simply asked the man who had gotten up.
"You're leaving."
Upon hearing this, Lucas stopped again and leaned against the curtain beside Oliver's bed. He lowered his head and looked solemnly at the person with a pair of bright eyes curled up in the brocade quilt.
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