The temperature in the hall rose once again. So oppressive was the heat that even the woman beside Shen Po—a man old enough to be her grandfather—was no longer sitting motionless.
"Courting death." From the shadows, Shangguan You sneered, waving her hands. A faint floral scent drifted into the hall. A fragrance, orchid-like yet not quite orchid, slowly enveloped the space, mingling with the smell of alcohol, the aroma of food, Zhuge Ao's teasing voice, and the women's giggles. The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly ambiguous. Zhuge Ao even had a few extra drinks and started to make his moves right in the middle of the hall.
"HEH HEH HEH." Shen Cheng also burst into laughter, amused by Zhuge Ao's eager antics. Naturally, he wouldn't let the woman in his own arms go either. That bitch Wanqian had cuckolded him, and even though she was now in prison, his hatred still burned. Having finally gotten out, he certainly wouldn't miss this opportunity.
