Wen Ya felt like she was about to turn into an ice cube.
The cold wind swirled through the bottom of her coat, blowing in from her ankles to her calves, then snuck under her skirt to her abdomen and back, making her whole body feel as if it had plunged into an icy pit.
But Wen Ya could no longer care about the cold.
The nauseating feeling pressing inside her made her gag repeatedly, she almost vomited bile.
Her mouth was bitter and astringent, as she leaned against the lamppost, her waist couldn't straighten.
"Hey, beautiful, you don't look like you're drunk, do you? Could you be... pregnant?"
The young man leaning against a car door beside her spoke impatiently.
The young man was the same one who had danced passionately and kissed Wen Ya in the dance hall moments ago. If it wasn't for Wen Ya's face being as pale as paper under the streetlights, he would have suspected Wen Ya was doing it on purpose, igniting his fire, yet unwilling to go overnight with him.
