Yun Han leaned limply into Ning Xuan's embrace. At such a close distance, he could smell the fresh fragrance of her body wash. His arm hung over hers, and he could feel her ice-smooth, jade-like skin. As he watched their arms intertwined, fiery magma seemed to churn in the depths of his heart.
"This is called a 'cross-cupped toast.' It's a marriage ritual from my homeland. Once we drink this wine, we will become one, our fates intertwined, sharing joy and sorrow together," Ning Xuan whispered in his ear, looking at the wretched state he was in.
The tips of Yun Han's ears were burning hot, and his entire body felt feverish. He and Ning Xuan touched foreheads and drank the toast. The cool liquor slid down his throat and into his stomach, its flavor rich and spicy. After a single sip, tears streamed down his face.
