In the early morning, a light drizzle was falling.
Behind the Qinglian Inn on Wutong Street, there lay a secluded courtyard.
Occasionally, the sound of birds chirping mixed with the rain could be heard inside the room.
Zhao Rong had been woken from a deep sleep by the pattering of the autumn rain against the window.
Sharing a bed with Qing Jun, he had completely relaxed.
He had slept exceptionally well and comfortably.
At this moment, as usual, Zhao Rong habitually kept his eyes closed, his thoughts wandering aimlessly, reviewing the day's plans in his mind.
He enjoyed the tranquility of the room in the early morning.
A certain mischievous girl liked to burst into the room and loudly call for the young master and miss to wake up, but today she had wisely refrained from disturbing him and Qing Jun.
Zhao Rong silently approved.
A moment later, thinking of something, he lay on the pillow with a slight smile and stretched lazily.
