After consoling Fujiwara Makoto, Zhao Ling took off her down jacket and casually draped it over the sofa. Her black thermal undershirt outlined her mature, voluptuous, and athletically sculpted curves.
She turned her head to arrange her long hair, then headed up to the second floor.
The stairwell's foot lights were triggered by her footsteps, glowing with a small patch of warm yellow light, illuminating only the steps and floor.
Zhao Ling arrived at the room door, where the pheromone lock recognized her, and the lock clicked open. She gently pushed the door, and a subtle scent wafted into her nostrils—it was the fragrance of the freshener released by the room's air filtration system.
She turned on the wall light, and the dim warm yellow glow filled the room with an ambiguous atmosphere. Zhao Ling entered and quietly closed the door behind her.
In the center of the room was a double bed, where Wei Tianyang lay on the left side, his eyes tightly closed, deep in sleep.
