On the other hand, in Qiao Zhi and Gu Yangjin's room,
The bathwater still clung to their skin in beads and rivulets as they stepped back into the softly lit room. The lantern on the low table burned with a warmer hue now, casting deep golds and oranges over the bedding. The air was thick with the faint fragrance of the herbs from their bath, mingling with something warmer—something that came from the two of them alone.
Qiao Zhi was the first to towel her hair dry, but she hardly took her eyes off Gu Yangjin. The latter was busy patting her own hair with precise, almost prim movements, every gesture deliberate, careful—as though any sign of haste might betray her nerves.
"You're slow," Qiao Zhi commented, flopping onto the bed with the kind of lazy grace that made it obvious she was watching Yangjin more than resting. "What are you doing? Polishing each strand?"
Yangjin gave her a sidelong glance. "Some of us prefer not to look like a wild animal after bathing."
