Zhi'er slept until dawn.
She hadn't woken up when she felt a cold hand gently patting her face.
"Get up, the villagers just went down the mountain."
It was Feng Fuce's voice.
Zhi'er immediately opened her eyes.
She quickly sat up, rubbing her eyes while using her fair little feet to reach for her shoes.
"What hour is it?"
"Chen hour." Feng Fuce said, bending over to pick up her shoes and place them by her feet.
Zhi'er hurriedly dressed.
Feng Fuce glanced at her and then tactfully turned his back.
Zhi'er was too rushed; her hair got tangled in the bead hairpin.
She exclaimed softly, "Oh no."
Feng Fuce slightly tilted his head, "What's wrong?"
"My hair is caught in the Beaded Flower."
"Shall I help you?" He first asked for her opinion.
Zhi'er nodded, and Feng Fuce then turned around.
By then, she had already dressed; only the collar's buttons weren't fastened.
Beneath the slender, fair swan neck was a delicate, beautiful collarbone.
