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A False Alarm

The tea and wine had turned cold, and only then did Zhai Heng let out a sigh of relief, carrying the unconscious person into the house.

The morning after a night of heavy drinking, Jiang Nuannuan woke up in the warm embrace of her blanket, the charcoal in the brazier had been replenished, and the room was not at all cold.

Zhai Heng entered with breakfast in hand, a folding screen slightly askew. "Are you awake?"

She quickly sat up, clutching the blanket, her hair disheveled, her eyes vacant. "I am awake…"

"You drank too much yesterday." Zhai Heng bent down to place the breakfast down.

The loose collar of his sweater revealed several red marks on his slender neck, as if someone had passionately kissed it.

Jiang Nuannuan stared at his neck, fragments of memories flashed through her mind. She hadn't completely lost her memory from the alcohol, and it seemed that she had clung to him in the room last night, refusing to let go. "Did I… do this?"