Zheng Ren was drunk after a cocktail.
In her daze, she could hear Su Yun saying something loudly, impassioned and high-spirited. He had a heroic bearing, a feather fan and a silk headdress, as if he was a powerful crossbow turning into ashes while talking and laughing.
No one knew when Zheng Ren had been helped into the house and thrown onto the bed.
Half-asleep and half-awake, Zheng Ren slept again and again. He did not sleep well, but he was always awake. Every time he woke up, he felt a little pain in his stomach, but it was not the kind of nauseating feeling that came from drinking too much.
"God knows what weird stuff Su Yun added to the cocktail. I might as well drink white wine. It's just one glass anyway," Zheng Ren thought to himself.
