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Under the starry night sky, a cluster of vines climbed along the walls, blossoming into beautiful red flowers. Oh, that red, ever so vivid, so passionate. It was as though every stalk of flower contained so much hope and thoughts, waiting for that day where they would bloom into flaming vines that could lit up the sky.

With a gentle touch, the fervor in the air was uncontainable.

Zhan Beiye's dark eyes were filled with so much passion, like the flowers, waiting to bloom.

He slowly… leaned in.

Meng Fuyao suddenly flipped over.

She rolled over to the wall and with a flick, she pushed Zhan Beiye away.

She faced the wall with her back towards Zhan Beiye and continued to sleep.

Zhan Beiye stopped moving as the air around them froze. The nervousness in their breaths was evident.

After a moment of silence, Zhan Beiye opened his mouth.

"You were not that drunk, why pretend?"

Meng Fuyao stiffened.