Sisi had run off, and Zhao Changhe wasn't sure whether he was getting a break or just becoming more listless.
Fortunately, the longed-for bath was finally done; he had slept haphazardly on the couch for half the night. As he sniffed the floral scent of the bedding, half asleep and in a daze, countless silhouettes flitted through his dreams, too chaotic to make out clearly.
Over and over, there were those eyes, fit to be angry or happy, and the snow-white, slender waist and jade-like feet, swaying back and forth.
In his sleep, he couldn't figure out what their relationships were, and he was just as confused upon waking.
When he woke up, dawn was just breaking. A young maid at his side was dozing off; Zhao Changhe seemed to startle her awake as he rubbed his eyes and smiled, "Did our guest sleep well? Mumbling unclear dream-talk all the while."
"Huh?" Zhao Changhe sat up suddenly, "What was I saying?"
