Translator: Lonelytree Editor: Millman97
Her tears stopped instantly. The man stood where he was and stared at her for a moment before walking around the table to sit down beside her.
He pulled the bottle away from her hands and placed it gently on the table before reaching over to her shoulder and pulling her into his embrace.
The party in the club carried on, while inside the darkened booth, he held her quietly in his arms. She shivered slightly, and he couldn’t help but raise his hand to lightly pat her on her back. It was only after a long time that he finally pulled her from his arms.
He lowered his head and saw that both her eyes and nose were red from tears. Her make-up was completely ruined, and her long lashes were tangled together from the copious number of tears. She was as sad-looking as possible.
He sighed lightly. It sounded like frustration and heartache. With his one hand, he held her face gingerly and used his other to carefully wipe away her tears and snot.
The tapered fingers that held her face were strong and powerful, but as they brushed her tears away, they spoke of immeasurable tenderness and care.
After he cleaned her face, his finger settled on the wound on her forehead. His actions were light as he examined the wound. After making sure the injury was not serious, he pulled out a disinfectant wipe from his pocket to clean her wound. At the same time, he cleared away the blood that had dried around the wound.
Eventually, his hand rested on the back of her head. It stayed there for a very long time before it raised her head, and he dropped a faded kiss in between her brows. Then, he let go of her and left as quietly as he came.
A minute after he left, Song Qingchun suddenly went searching for her phone in her bag. With her lead lowered, her fingers tapped mechanically on the display and sent a message out.
I’m at MIX, unable to drive, can you come fetch me?
After the message was sent, she placed her phone back into her bag.
…
Song Qingchun blinked into consciousness. She looked at the stage that had another set of performers on it, and her frown deepened.
Her alcohol-addled mind was slow to pick up what was wrong with the picture. Wait… I was crying facing down on the table, so why am I now sitting up straight watching the performance then?
The perplexed Song Qingchun looked around before her gaze settled on the bottle of white wine, which only had a third left, sitting on the table. She frowned even deeper.
If I’m not mistaken, I was holding the bottle; when did it go so far away from me? What’s going on? Am I really that drunk?
Suddenly, a lightbulb lit up inside Song Qingchun. She raised her hands to touch her own face. It was dry; the tears that had been stuck to her face before were all gone.
She seemed to understand everything instantly. She jumped up from the seat, grabbed her purse, and walked to the bathroom with faltering steps.
She collapsed before the counter and widened her eyes, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
Her skin was fair and dry, all traces of tears gone. She also noticed that even the dried blood on her forehead had been cleaned.
