January 13, 2024, Saturday, clear.
8:00 a.m.
Sunlight leaked in through the gap in the curtains, spreading a warm band of light across the floor.
Liu Qingning's eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Still dazed, she rolled over and reached to the side.
Empty. Cold.
Tang Song was no longer in bed.
Her thoughts gradually returned.
What had happened last night surfaced again.
"The shop..."
Liu Qingning buried her face in the pillow, her ears so red they looked ready to drip blood.
Every image, every sensation, was terrifyingly clear.
It was too shameful.
It was truly too shameful.
A long time later.
She poked half her face out from under the quilt and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while.
Then she moved her fingers.
Sore.
Her wrist was genuinely sore.
That aching feeling from holding the same forceful position for too long spread from her wrist all the way to her forearm.
She tried turning her wrist, then quickly tucked it back under the quilt.
"Damn little Song! Damn him! Damn him!!"
Liu Qingning bit her lower lip, gently lifted a corner of the quilt, and looked down at herself.
Even now, it seemed she was still covered in his scent.
She leaned close to sniff the ends of her hair, and her face burned even hotter.
But another thought rose uncontrollably in her mind.
He seemed to really like it.
That kind of liking was not just something said aloud.
That feeling made her see the little Song from back then again.
The boy who belonged only to her.
Thinking of this, Liu Qingning suddenly smiled.
There was a little foolishness in her smile, a little sweetness, and a little softness.
She curled up under the quilt for a while longer, then lifted it,