Qiao Zhi leaned in. Her gaze dropped, focused intently. She reached forward, her hand steady, and gently brushed the corner of Gu Yangjin's lips with her fingertip.
A rice grain.
"It's stained," Qiao Zhi murmured. She drew back her finger, pinched the tiny grain between pale fingertips, and smiled faintly. "Can't waste it."
Without hesitation, she placed it on her tongue.
Gu Yangjin's breath hitched. Her cheeks flamed red, her hands lifting to cover her mouth. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.
Sister Zhi… ate the rice grain from her lips.
Her eyes darted—catching a glimpse of Qiao Zhi's tongue, pink against the soft lamplight. Her thoughts scattered wildly. If Sister Zhi had been closer, if she had leaned in just a little more…
She shook her head quickly, her lashes trembling. Too bold. Too shameful.
