60, This is a world that judges by appearance.

When Song Qinghuan woke up the next morning, she felt a slight headache. Opening her eyes, a sizable floor-to-ceiling window came into view. Through the narrow openings of the not fully closed curtains, broken sunlight snuck in.

It shone on the velvet quilt, making it seem even more soft and warm.

She cocooned herself inside it, not wishing to move a muscle.

Last night, she'd had a gathering with her colleagues and apparently consumed alcohol. Had she gotten drunk? It didn't seem so. Anyway, she had gotten into a taxi, and then…

She couldn't remember at all what happened next!

Song Qinghuan's mind went blank, and she suddenly sat bolt upright on the bed, the quilt sliding off her.

Her first reaction was to check herself to see if anything was amiss. Everything was untouched, except for her shoes.

Fortunately, she was safe; she hadn't been violated.

Her bag was also undamaged on the bedside table, and her money was safe, not stolen.