It was night.
Suddenly, a light rain began to fall from the sky, layering the courtyard with mist and rain. The willow trees in the courtyard swayed gently, and the strong wind beat against the window of the backyard, creating a rhythmic "patter" sound.
In the side room, Xia Zhiqing wore a white gauzy dress. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly, as her slender, pale fingers plucked the zither strings. With red lips slightly parted, she sang the poem "Guan Ju", her eyes occasionally glanced towards the bed, and her face inexplicably flushed, her delicate body gradually becoming unnatural.
Chen Mo lay on the soft couch, his hands under his head, looking up at Xia Zhining above him. He joked, "You're getting more and more cooperative, you venomous woman, even taking charge this time."
