After speaking, she closed her eyes, a rare weariness settling on her brow. She lay back in her chair, tilting her head slightly. Her ink-black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, save for the section pulled up and adorned with a peachwood hairpin. Her slender waist was cinched tight, the folds of her skirt billowing gently around her as she swayed slightly with the breeze. Two sashes hung from her waist, rippling in the wind.,Wei Xue nodded and turned to leave. Mu Jiu sat up and walked to the bedside. He hadn't had a nightmare in a long time.,There's a saying in Beijing to describe this street of pleasure: "Drunkenly Reclining Amidst Wind and Moon, Discussing Romantic Tales; A Half-Step into the Red House is Already Immoral."。