The candlelight flickered faintly, casting its glow on the beauty lying on the Imperial Concubine Couch, like a lotus flower battered and bruised by wind and rain.
Her eyes were weakly closed, long lashes drooping like the wings of a butterfly on the verge of falling.
She seemed to have fainted.
Driven by some inexplicable force, Gao Zheng quietly stepped closer.
His gaze drifted downward along the thin quilt, landing on Shen Yinning's leg, which hung limply over the edge of the Imperial Concubine Couch. Graceful, with a perfect balance between bone and flesh, her skin was soft and luminous like white jade. Around her slender ankle was a delicately crafted golden bell anklet.
Gao Zheng's breathing grew a little heavier.
Earlier, amidst that long, blush-inducing series of sounds, he had distinctly heard the faint chime of a bell—it must have come from the anklet on Shen Yinning's foot.
