72: She saw the mottled marks on her body.

Han Qing took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

Her movements had to be light; she couldn't wake Qin Lin.

As long as she left quietly, she could pretend nothing had ever happened.

Besides, Qin Lin was drunk; perhaps he wouldn't remember a thing about last night at all.

Yes, that was it—flee the scene.

Bury all of this in the deepest recesses of her memory.

She cautiously lifted Qin Lin's arm from her waist.

His arm was heavy, his muscles firm.

As she moved it, her fingertips could feel the temperature and texture of his skin.

Qin Lin seemed to stir, letting out a vague mumble.

Han Qing's heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

She held her breath and froze in place, not daring to move an inch.

After a few seconds, Qin Lin's breathing became steady and even once again.

Han Qing let out a sigh of relief and continued her movements.

She slowly shifted her body, attempting to extract herself from Qin Lin's embrace.

The process was excruciatingly difficult.

The two of them were pressed too tightly together; every movement she made tugged at her aching body, causing her to hiss through her teeth.

Finally, she successfully backed out of his embrace.

Han Qing sat up, the quilt sliding off her body.

In the faint light of early morning, she saw the mottled marks on her body:

Her chest, her waist, her thighs... kiss marks and finger prints were everywhere, a shocking display of blues and purples.

There were especially many on her chest.

Just how wild had last night been?

She didn't dare think about it in detail and quickly scanned the room.

Clothing was scattered across the floor:

Her deep blue silk nightgown, Qin Lin's shirt and trousers.

And... her bra and panties, tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed.

Han Qing's face burned fiercely.

She climbed out of bed quietly, but as soon as her feet hit the floor, her legs buckled, and she nearly fell.

The soreness was more severe than she had anticipated.

She steadied herself against the edge of the bed, gritted her teeth, and bent over to pick up her clothes.

The process of getting dressed was a pathetic struggle.

Every part of her body was protesting; even a slightly larger movement would pull at her aching muscles and hidden wounds.

Her fingers trembled as she put on her bra, and it took several tries to fasten the hooks.

She pulled on her nightgown and tied the belt tight.

Though it covered her body, it couldn't hide the feeling of having been thoroughly possessed.

Han Qing glanced back at Qin Lin on the bed.

He was still asleep, lying on his side with the quilt only covering him up to his waist, revealing his lean and powerful upper body.

The morning light shone on his face; his features were relaxed, and a trace of a satisfied smile seemed to linger at the corner of his mouth.

That smile stung Han Qing.

Of course he was satisfied—a young man, acting on drunken impulse, taking advantage of a mature woman.

And what about her?

Like an adulterous harlot, she had to flee in panic as soon as she woke up.

An indescribable surge of emotion welled up inside her.

Shame, anger, resentment.

And a trace of... a lingering attachment that she herself was unwilling to admit.

No, she couldn't linger.

Han Qing shook her head, shaking off those thoughts that shouldn't be there.

She walked to the door, placed her hand on the handle, took a deep breath, and gently pressed down.

The door silently slid open a crack.

The hallway was very quiet, and the doors to the other rooms were all closed.

No one else was awake yet.

Han Qing slipped out like a thief and quickly pulled the door shut.

The moment the door closed, she leaned against the wall and let out a long, long sigh of relief.

Safe.

As long as she got back to her own room, lay back in bed, and pretended nothing had happened, then last night would truly be nothing more than an absurd dream.

Supporting herself with her crutch, she cautiously made her way toward room 003.

The crutch was actually leaning by the door; Qin Lin hadn't forgotten to bring it when he helped her inside last night.

Every step was a struggle.

The combination of her body's soreness and her foot injury meant she was practically shuffling.

Even worse, with every step, a clear sensation of pain would radiate from that place.

Reminding her of what had happened last night.

Finally, she reached the door of room 003.

Han Qing pushed the door open; inside, Han Yurou was still fast asleep, her breathing even.

The girl was lying on her side, hugging her pillow, sleeping soundly.

She had absolutely no idea what had happened last night.

Han Qing gently closed the door and slid down to sit on the floor with her back against the door panel.

Tears welled up without warning.

She covered her mouth to keep from crying out loud, but her shoulders trembled violently.

All her emotions burst through the floodgates at this moment:

The despair of the apocalypse, the pressure of protecting her daughter.

And that absurd one-night stand from last night that had violated all of her principles.

She cried in a suppressed, restrained way, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing.

After a long time, the sound of her crying gradually ceased.

Han Qing wiped away her tears and used the wall to help herself stand up.

She couldn't be like this; she couldn't break down.

She was a doctor, a mother.

She still had to protect her daughter and survive in this team.

Wash up, change her bandages, and tidy her appearance.

She looked at herself in the mirror:

Her eyes were red and swollen, her face was pale, and there were still unconcealed kiss marks on her neck.

She carefully covered them with foundation.

Fortunately, there were cosmetics on the RV, even though she rarely used them normally.

She changed into a high-collared sweater to hide all the marks.

Then she sat by the bed, looking at her sleeping daughter with a complex gaze.

If Yu Rou found out, what would she think?

Would she look down on her mother?

Would she think her mother was a shameless woman?

Han Qing didn't dare to think about it.

She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

But she knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

In Room 000, the moment Han Qing left, Qin Lin opened his eyes.

In fact, he had been awake for a while, even earlier than Han Qing.

The headache from his hangover made him frown.

But immediately following that, the soft, warm touch in his arms and the lingering memories of pleasure in his body brought his consciousness fully awake.

He remembered everything about last night.

He remembered every single detail.

From helping Han Qing leave the living room to being possessed by some impulse and bringing her into his room.

To that wild union in the darkness.

The alcohol had certainly made his behavior much bolder, but it hadn't erased his memory.

On the contrary, those sensations, those sounds, and that pleasure became even clearer now that he was sober.

Han Qing's body... was as wonderful as he had imagined, even more so.

That fullness and softness of a mature woman.

That passion and response completely unleashed under the catalyst of alcohol... Qin Lin took a deep breath, suppressing the arousal rising in his body again.

But he didn't move, nor did he open his eyes.

Because he felt Han Qing in his arms wake up.

He felt the stiffness of her body, felt her cautious probing and her escape.

He didn't know how to face her.

Say 'I'm sorry, I drank too much last night'?

Too hypocritical, because although he had been drinking, his consciousness had been clear and his choice had been voluntary.

Say 'I really enjoyed what happened last night'?

Too frivolous; it would be an insult to a woman like Han Qing.

So the best way was to pretend to be asleep.

Let her leave, and give each other time to process.

He felt Han Qing lift his arm, felt her cautiously move out of his embrace, felt her get out of bed, dress, and leave.

The moment the door closed, Qin Lin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Last night's events... were they right or wrong?

From a moral standpoint, it was certainly wrong.

Han Qing was an elder, a doctor, and Han Yurou's mother.

Moreover, she was drunk; he had taken advantage of her vulnerability.

No, both of them had been drunk.

It couldn't really be called taking advantage of her vulnerability.

From the level of desire... Qin Lin had to admit, he wanted her.

From the moment she put on that black knit dress, from the moment he called her 'Aunt Qing'.

From the moment he caught her when she nearly fell... that attraction had been building up.

And last night, the alcohol had broken down all defenses.

More importantly, he didn't have much morality to speak of anyway.