Li Meirong stilled, as per his demand. A bashful expression dominated her features. She bit her swollen lip ever so slightly, looking as though she yearned to speak, but was holding herself back.
The long dark strands of Li Meirong's hair tumbled over her shoulders and spilled across Zhu Qingyue's exposed pectorals. The man underneath her raised an arm to tuck a few stray locks behind her ear.
As she gazed, spellbound, into the Zhu Qingyue's expressive eyes, the sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears.
Feather-like hair framed his exquisitely sculpted face, more captivating than any man or woman she had ever laid eyes on.
Zhu Qingyue looked like a person who had never suffered any sorrows nor worked a day in his life, and yet, the feel of the rock hard body underneath her was that of an athlete, or in this era, perhaps a seasoned warrior. A man who frequently experienced the hardships of battle.
