An Jing looked at the woman in front of him and said, "Princess, you are truly intoxicated."
"Intoxicated?"
Zhao Xuening gently stretched out her hand, wanting to caress An Jing's cheek.
Her hand moved neither hastily nor slowly, her eyes fixated on An Jing's serene eyes.
Suddenly, her hand paused mid-air, then casually she grabbed the wine pot, and burst into laughter, "Why isn't Master An drinking?"
As she spoke, she took a wine cup, filled it to the brim and handed it to An Jing.
An Jing took the wine cup, noticing the red lipstick mark on the rim, and said, "Thank you, Your Highness. I am somewhat intoxicated as well; perhaps it's best to escort the princess back early."
Zhao Xuening waved her hand and said, "No need, I can manage on my own."
As she spoke, she slowly walked towards the hall, as if waiting for something with every step she took.
The evening moon knows not your southern thoughts; Both I and the east wind have too much affection.