Before long...
Jiang Che, too, slumped backward, dead drunk, with one arm still draped across his forehead.
Ning Rongrong could hold her liquor better than either of the other two.
She got up to gather the scattered cups, then gently covered them both with their outer robes.
Ning Rongrong stood there, watching the two of them sleep for a while, then suddenly crouched down and leaned closer to Jiang Che.
Very close.
Close enough to see the tiny shadows his eyelashes cast in the moonlight, close enough to smell the lingering scent of wine and grass on his collar.
She remembered how she had frozen for a full three seconds the day she first met Jiang Che.
Three seconds was already far, far too long for her-long enough to lose her composure.
After that, she had never dared to look closely at his face again.
Whenever her gaze swept over his brows and eyes, the bridge of his nose, or the corners of his lips, it would spring away as though scalded. She dared even less to meet those unfathomable eyes, as though one more glance would let something invisible seize her.
But tonight was different.
He was drunk. He would not notice.
Ning Rongrong held her breath and looked for ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds... only after dozens of seconds had passed did she slowly withdraw her gaze and straighten up.
The moonlight was clear and bright, and the breeze scattered the stray locks beside her cheeks.
Ning Rongrong did not know why she had wanted to look at Jiang Che. Having looked to her heart's content this time, she no longer felt that fixation.
She turned back toward her spot, lay down, and closed her eyes.
After spending so much time with Zhu Zhuqing, Ning Rongrong naturally