The sun was high in the sky, casting dappled patterns of light on the bed.
Wen Qian slowly opened her eyes, a hangover headache stabbing at her temples like fine needles.
She groggily sat up, holding her forehead. The brocade quilt, embroidered with an intertwined lotus pattern, slipped from her shoulders. On the incense-scented bed, the potent smell of alcohol from the previous night had completely dissipated.
Yin Zhi lay on his side next to her, propping his chin up with one hand.
His amber eyes were veiled with a misty weariness, the corners slightly red. He stared at her with a burning gaze until, after a long moment, the corners of his lips suddenly curled into a knowing smile.
Wen Qian tried to recall the events of last night, but her head only throbbed more painfully. She instinctively tried to get up and leave, but the moment she moved, Yin Zhi's hand clamped firmly around her wrist.
With a slight tug, he pulled her into his arms.
