Piping hot.
There was a burning pain in the palm of my hand, as if I was holding a red-hot iron.
Lu Chaochao opened his eyes suddenly.
What you can see is the carved window lattice, and through the translucent window paper, you can see the somewhat gloomy sky outside. The air was filled with a sweet smell of powdered powder, mixed with some old sandalwood, which made people's temples throb.
She lowered her head.
He was holding a purple clay teapot tightly in his hand. The spout was steaming, and the white mist curled up, blurring the scene in front of him.
Where is this?
She clearly remembered that she was checking that damn antique ledger all night long. How did she end up in a place that looked like a costume drama set in the blink of an eye?
