The rain pattered, Shengjing's night was dim and heavy, exuding the crisp chill of autumn.
By the time Qi Chuan returned home, it was deep into the quiet night.
The roof leaked rainwater, which trailed down the wall to form a small puddle on the ground. Stepping into it unwittingly, his thin-soled boots instantly soaked through.
He pulled his wet leg free and pushed the door open to enter.
Inside, the room was lit by a lamp on the table, where a young woman in a satin robe sat on the outer divan drinking wine. Shrimp shells were tossed carelessly all over the floor, the room redolent with the smell of alcohol.
This was Qi Chuan's wife, Mrs. Ma.
She was somewhat drunk, squinting disapprovingly at the water stains on Qi Chuan's clothes that dampened the floor, and muttered, "Filthy!"
Qi Chuan paid her no heed and merely glanced inside, asking, "Is Jiu'er asleep?"
Jiu'er was Qi Chuan's son. Mrs. Ma grunted in response.
