Zimei watched the phone screen dim in the darkness. She tugged at the corner of her lips, revealing a melancholy curve.
She knew Ye Cheng wouldn't come tonight.
The stars outside the window sparkled, but her heart remained dull and empty.
Bottles of wine were scattered near her bare feet, with remnants of red wine spilling from their mouths. The luxurious bedroom was permeated with a strong fragrance. Zimei's head throbbed like it might split, and she leaned against the headboard, slowly closing her eyes.
...
Late at night, Ji Wei woke up.
She sat up slightly and saw a tall silhouette on the sofa beside her.
The sofa wasn't spacious. Mo Qian lay curled up on it, surely uncomfortable.
Ji Wei felt a pang of emotion. Her nose tingled as she resisted the urge to cry, softly speaking, "Mo Qian, don't sleep on the sofa; you'll catch a cold."
The figure on the sofa stirred, then turned over and sat up.
