"You say the General and Madame are currently being intimate?"
Jiang Yue slowly turned her head. Seeing A-Jing nod, a string that had been pulled taut within her snapped with a resounding thud.
She had once learned to make plum wine from her mother. Brewing required perfect timing; too early and the fruit would be bitter, too late and it would rot into a mushy heap. The wine made from those bitter fruits would hit the throat like Coptis chinensis, burning through the chest and lungs as it went down.
Chapter 96