PREVIEW
... watch of the night, at the East Fence Small House.
North chamber’s lamp still shone.
Inside the room, behind the landscape painting screen, white mist curled around, faintly outlining a bath tub and a figure within it.
Zhao Rong’s hair was dripping wet, his hands resting on the edge of the tub, head leaning back, with a neatly folded white towel covering his forehead and half of his face.
In the hazy fog, the curve of his mouth was filled with ease.
At one ...
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