Yan Luoxi emerged from the restroom and walked back the way she'd came. Just as she turned the corner, a slow and cold voice reached her ears, "What happened to the wound on your chin?"
The voice of Mo Beichen was unmistakable, even though they'd only met twice and he'd barely spoken more than a few words on both occasions, his voice left a deep impression on her.
She stopped in her tracks, involuntarily turning back to look.
On the dimly lit terrace, the moonlight was bright and clear, casting long shadows of the intertwined figures, whose intimate posture made her cheeks turn hot.
She didn't look any longer, quickly walking away.
On the terrace, dressed in a red gown that made her fair skin seem even more delicate, Gu Qian had her chin pinched by a man's fingertips, looking exceptionally helpless and pitiful.
