Does it really matter whether he was truly drunk or not?
Unbidden, Jiayin's delicate face surfaced in his mind again, and he couldn't help but recall the strange feeling he'd had when they were together last night.
His eyes involuntarily glanced at the spot on his arm where Jiayin had pressed tightly against him. Just thinking about it, that feeling surged in his heart once more.
The pretty girl noticed Ye Wuge staring at the softness pressed so firmly against his arm. Misunderstanding his gaze as interest, she leaned closer and coquettishly called him "Director Ye" in a syrupy tone, pressing herself even tighter against him.
Ye Wuge felt a sudden inexplicable irritation. He reached out with one hand, pulling her into his arms. He bit her neck, then half-pushed and half-carried her into his private VIP room.
Jiayin slept at home all day long. It wasn't until night fell that she groggily opened her eyes to find the house shrouded in darkness—Ye Wuge clearly had not returned.
