The damp handkerchief slowly glided over his porcelain, velvet-like skin, wiping away the sweat and cooling down the overheating temperature. Shadow Blade gradually quietened down as he regained a bit of his consciousness. Suddenly, he grabbed Meng Fuyao's hand.
To avoid the awkwardness, the room was not lit up. Meng Fuyao was caught by surprise, thinking that he was going to bite her finger once more. But this time, Shadow Blade gently placed her hand on his heart and mumbled something. Meng Fuyao inched closer, trying to make out what he was mumbling but the moment she leaned in, the rich, fresh scent of a man rushed up to her nose. Her heart thumped as the smell engulfed her, and then she remembered that he was not properly clothed. She quickly stepped back.
