Lu Zhao lay on the sofa in the lounge, his forehead raised in a daze. His mind was jumbled with memories of Luo Ying and him getting along, and chaotic fragments flashed past one after the other.
Luo Ying? What happened to Luo Ying? She had returned home.
Whose home? His? Hers?
Lu Zhao endured the dull throb in his head and tried to pull himself out of this chaos. However, the heavy drinking clouded his judgment.
Someone appeared to be conversing with him. Everything was just so loud. Who was it?
"Lu Zhao?" Lu Zhao was startled to hear a familiar female voice. Luo Ying?
When Luo Ying heard the news, she thought about it for a while before deciding to come. She was concerned that the poison in Lu Zhao's body would be affected by the wine and cause an unusual situation. Still, her blood may come in useful.
When she entered the lounge, she was surprised to see Lu Zhao sitting on the sofa, dazed, like a statue of David the Thinker.
