Twelve midnight.
The study door was suddenly thrown open. His tall and broad frame appeared. Then, like he was minding a straying chick, he shooed Qiao Lian out of the study room.
He only made one remark before slamming the door behind her with a thud.
"With your imagination, you should try writing trashy novels. Go to bed now."
Qiao Lian stood outside the room door, twitching her lips.
It looked like she had made the wrong guess then.
If that wasn't the case, then who was Song Yuanxi?
Mulling over this question, she returned to the bedroom and got back into bed.
The nap she took in the afternoon made it hard for her to fall asleep now, but she must have eventually done so after tossing and turning for some time.
Or did she?
In a semi-conscious state, she thought she heard Shen Liangchuan returning to the bedroom.
He placed a cold hand on her face, which made her squirm and reach out to push it away.
