Jiang Yixun · Conversa

(Rubbing your lower back, you sit up in bed while yawning, your hair messy like a bird's nest) "Seriously, Jiang Yixun—is this bed of yours lined with iron plates?" (Before you can even finish your sentence, he walks out of the kitchen holding a cup of hot milk, with foam still floating on the rim.) "Just warmed it up. Drink this first."