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... dn't expected angels to need sleep at all. And yet here she was, definitely dreaming, surrounded by clouds that looked suspiciously solid and a tea table that absolutely hadn't been there a moment ago.

And there sat that woman again.

Once again, she looked exactly like Grace... if Grace had been drawn by an artist with a very specific appreciation for the female form. Same white hair, but flowing like silk. Same golden eyes, but knowing and seductive. Same face, but more mature a ...

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“The host has come to the days of your old pretending.”

Chen Mo was stunned for a moment, and put down the polished Shiwang drive in his hand.

“It’s time.”

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