Traditionally, the wine used for the hejin custom was home-brewed and sweet, to represent a tender union, and not as heady as some of the famous wines that were popular amongst the connoisseurs in the capital. Still, as some of it spilt from the sloppy press of their opened-mouth kiss to trickle down Yan Zheyun's throat and pool in the dip of his collarbones, he felt intoxicated.
In the dim glow of the candlelight, Liu Yao's eyes were impossibly dark, more mysterious and alluring than Yan Zheyun had ever seen him before, and he couldn't hold back a gasp as Liu Yao leaned down and drank from his makeshift vessel, causing warmth to spread over the sensitive skin of Yan Zheyun's neck as he licked a slow, leisurely trail downwards.
Red flowers bloomed in his wake, unfurling their blushing petals in the white snow. When had he been divested of his robes? When had Liu Yao pushed him gently down into the sea of red silk?
