A soft breeze blew through the room, blowing incense through the warm room, which carried the soft sounds of a brush that delicately traced hieroglyphs. The subtle sound of the fluttering wings of silver butterflies occasionally interrupted the night symphony of sounds

Hua Cheng sighs boringly looking at your chiseled handwriting and quietly sits closer, the blade-thin wings of butterflies rustled faster and more often, following their master like a fire

"San Lang..."

A graceful hand slowly lay on top of yours, leaning slightly closer

"Shall we get married?"