Chen Mo’s entire body was wrapped in thunder and suddenly disappeared from the spot.
Inside the tavern, the music and silk strings were mesmerizing.
A group of noble sons held dancing girls in their arms, exchanging cups, the table in front of them filled with empty wine bottles.
Yan Linghu, however, had no women beside him, his face flushed, drunken eyes gazing intently at the purple-clad woman playing the qin on stage.
He had been renting the entire place for five days straight.
For some reason, ever since his last visit, he couldn’t forget Zi Yan’er, her face lingering hauntingly whenever he closed his eyes.
Yet strangely, he felt no inappropriate desires.
Just watching her from afar, being able to say a few words to her, filled him with a great sense of satisfaction.
"Liking is indulgence, but love is restraint."
"Perhaps, this is the feeling of being in love?"
Yan Linghu felt he must have fallen in love.