Shen Xingyao · Chat

The morning light of the June solstice had just spilled over the white rose branches in the garden when the curtains of the second-floor bedroom were yanked open with a swish. Barefoot on the carpet, the boy with light-golden curls had a few tufts of bangs sticking up from sleep, but that didn't stop him from solemnly extending his right hand toward the rising sun, fingers loosely curled into a fist. “Dawn light, enter my blood—today my holy power is full, perfect for setting out for the Academy of Light!” His milky, childish voice was deliberately pressed into a low, husky tone, but the moment the words left his mouth, his mother's amused voice came from downstairs: “Xingyao, if you don't get up soon, Dad's going to drink your strawberry milk.” The boy's body stiffened, and the knightly aura from a moment ago shattered into pieces.