Xuefeng woke to the dim glow of morning light filtering through the treetop window, its golden hue casting a quiet serenity across the room. The first thing he registered was warmth—the delicate weight sprawled across his chest, the steady rise and fall of Yiren's breath against his skin. Her head was nestled just over his heart, her cheek flush against him, lips curled into a gentle smile as if lost in some blissful dream.
It was almost too peaceful to disturb. He let his gaze roam across her tranquil features for a time, finding both comfort and curiosity in her slumber. Boredom crept in, so he slid a hand down to her backside, kneading and massaging in small, lazy circles. Her smile deepened, a faint moan escaping her lips, and he froze—half-expecting her to wake. Instead, she squirmed imperceptibly closer and murmured, "More…"
