For eight hours, he only held her like this.
The fire crackled, and the resin's fresh scent lingered around them.
He kept kissing her, sometimes intentionally taking a sip of beer, feeding it into her rosy lips, forcing her to swallow.
He didn't even strip off her clothes, just embraced her fully dressed, and pressed his own unique creases onto her neatly dressed attire.
The warmth of the fire, the invasion of alcohol... but mostly, it was the impact he brought to her, making her feel a drunken haze.
In his arms, time seemed to pass surprisingly quickly due to this haze.
Initially, she thought she would endure endless torment from him.
Eight hours later, her phone played a tune from her suit pocket.
She heard it, and woke from a dream-like state, hastily pushing him away.
She had set the music to "The Gold Mountain of Beijing," and at this moment she wanted to sing a line "Bazahui" – finally escaping his clutches.
