Just having been tormented by a man, she did not feel much pleasure or comfort, only a thick sense of humiliation.
She wished she could slap herself.
Why did she debase herself?
With that thought, Qiao Zhaoyue bit her tongue again, using the pain to bring some clarity to her mind.
This time, she managed to stay awake until dawn before drifting off into a confused sleep.
By the time she fully regained consciousness, the sky outside the window was already dimly lit.
Qiao Zhaoyue moved her arms and legs, finding them sore and almost unbearable, especially a certain area which throbbed faintly, making it nearly impossible to move.
With a sigh, Qiao Zhaoyue began to ponder that she and Ji Mingcheng had never been so intimate.
The only time they had been in close contact was when she almost fell.
Yet she did not know who took that photo, nor why it was taken in such an ambiguous way.
