The mist lingered, summering with romance.
At this moment, within the Gallery of Shili, Fang Yang embraced his senior disciple, his hot, burning palm already sliding past the green long dress, gently kneading and exploring.
"Mmm..."
Accompanied by a soft moan, Ye Qinghong's eyes went round with shock and shyness flooding her cool gaze,
Her slender, pale neck and the delicate collarbones seemed to blush with a layer of rosy dawn, so tender and shocking in their beauty.
Clearly, Ye Qinghong was surprised, startled by her master's sudden move.
Before this, when she had practiced the Red Dust Sword Art with her master, their bodies had also pressed tightly together, there in the hot springs.
But...
It had been quite some time, and now this sudden burst of intimacy, left her momentarily unaccustomed to such closeness.
