The curtain rippled, and the inn's not-so-sturdy canopy bed squeaked in the late summer afternoon.
Pei Xiangjun was sitting at the head of the bed in a w-sitting posture. She was wearing Luo Ning's black gauze triangular smallclothes, and the two peony flowers embellished the key points. The cut-out fabric was very tight, making it worrisome that the string would break because of the heavy weight.
Luo Ning was sitting in the middle in a similar posture, face to face with Pei Xiangjun. Her clothes were exactly the same, but the color was slightly different.
Because her legs were weak, Luo Ning was leaning forward slightly in Pei Xiangjun's arms, resting her chin on her shoulder with her eyes closed in silence. Her expression still looked like she was being wronged.
