Looking at the hollowed-out gauze tent roof, touching the gorgeous silk brocade quilt, and the moderately soft and hard mattress under him... It was good, at least he didn't have to worry about his livelihood, and he didn't know who 'he' was. The hand on his waist moved, and he turned his head. The handsome face so close was amazing, "Morning..." His lips and tongue were blocked, he frowned and looked at the shaking tent ceiling, "You are mine, you are mine..." He looked at him with pain in his heart, alas, he was not 'him'.
Conception: