Dreams, vivid and fragrant.
Mr. Lu gradually woke from his sleep.
Joint bent, arms tingling, and dry lips and tongue, each discomfort reminded him of the sudden rain last night.
When people wake from beautiful dreams, their thoughts tend to be muddled.
Memory started to function, in the cache, those scenes from the dreams became vague and fuzzy, replaced by the actual scenes from last night, albeit fragmented, crowding the space.
Fantasy receded, reality approached.
Dizziness, joint pain, a somewhat wooden mind, chapped lips—it was all because he had drunk too much red wine last night.
Why were his arms tingling?
It seemed that the upper part of his arms was a bit numb.
Opening his eyes, his blurry vision gradually sharpened, the ceiling light of the hotel, a luxurious composition of six squares, was a familiar scene.
He turned his head slightly, a pair of bright, timid yet sweetly intoxicated eyes were looking at him.
Tender affection.
