Suddenly... I got used to writing words without the lower half.
Lay paper, grind ink, and sway. A few lines of black characters appeared on the white paper.
This is a poem, but it only has the first half.
Qin Qiyan's hand holding the brush fell down and silently touched the table, but the brush in his hand continued to fall. A black ink mark was left on the green silk coat.
"Ah... It's stained..." Qin Qiyan murmured, stood up, and picked up the brush. Just take off the clothes stained with ink.
Walking to the bronze mirror, a snow-white, uneven body was reflected in the unclear bronze mirror.
She touched the sunken part of her chest, where there was a mark.
Lotus mark.