Chen Ye's voice was very soft, like a warm breeze gently blowing, almost only Lin Jin, who was close to him, could hear it clearly.
But his true attention was always firmly locked onto the elegant room across the street in the Zui Xian Lou.
Inside the tavern, Wei Cheng was still spraying saliva while talking excitedly.
The girl in his arms listened quietly to the man's voice, her gentle body occasionally tensing under the man's palm.
The man's storytelling tone was soothing, with a hint of coaxing flavor, his fingers gently stroking Lin Jin's smooth long hair, tracing along her perfectly curved nape, sliding down to her frail shoulders, finally resting on her delicate butterfly bones.
The frame was astonishingly slender, as if it would shatter with just a firm grasp.
"That kid is definitely dead!"
Wei Cheng was high in spirits, bursting into wild laughter.
Amidst the drinking excitement, the clinking of glasses gradually quieted down.
