Jing Lan was shocked into a cold sweat by this absurd thought.
He shifted his gaze, looking out at the apartment.
But soon, he couldn't help but turn his gaze back to Chuzheng.
Jing Lan's brows gradually furrowed, a faint restless emotion flashed in his deep blue eyes. He reached for a bottle of wine beside him and drank slowly.
Even though the wine was cold, at this moment, he felt it was burning.
-
When Chuzheng got up, it was already dark outside.
She was still lying on Jing Lan's lap. Jing Lan leaned against the sofa, his eyes slightly closed, one hand casually resting on the sofa armrest, the other placed on her waist.
Chuzheng stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly sat up.
Jing Lan opened his eyes, his deep blue eyes clear: "Awake?"
Chuzheng propped herself up on the sofa: "Teacher."
Jing Lan: "..."
Both were on the sofa, and their posture was indeed somewhat intimate and ambiguous.
