Ou Lan, in her dreamy haze, had her little hands fumbling around her hips, touching and searching without resolving her physiological problem. It only made her more anxious. Her tiny mouth puckered as if she was about to cry.
Zhan Moxiao had been watching her, puzzled. "Aren't you just needing to pee? What are you touching for?"
Ou Lan's voice, hoarse from the hangover, sobbed, "I can't get my pants off, what if I wet them?"
Zhan Moxiao took a deep breath with his hands on his waist and, gritting his teeth, hissed into her ear, "You're not wearing any pants. What are you trying to take off, a ball of yarn?"
As he spoke, he pushed down on her shoulder, "Just go ahead and pee!"
Already weak in the knees from the alcohol, Ou Lan's legs gave out with his push, and she sat down on the toilet, and that took care of the urination problem.
