Mar 15
Xie Yanzhou’s breathing hitched, his anger wavering as he looked down at her face. His gaze had fallen on a red mark across the woman’s cheek, a small abrasion where his father’s nail had scratched her in passing.
The slap hadn’t been warranted. He should have stopped it, and he hadn’t. Yet here he was, wanting to strike her himself.
He felt his hands shaking, still gripping her collar tightly. He could only be happy for the rain obscuring his frustrated tears. Zhaolin stared back, her expression painfully distant as rain beat down around them. They were both soaked in mud, their uniforms a mess, smelling of wine and rain.
(more rough stuff under cut)
