Sheng Junlie walked towards her on the ground covered with tiny golden light. Seeing her trembling, he reached out to touch her, "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"
"Smack!" Ye Ling slapped away his hand and staggered back two steps. "Don't touch me!"
The atmosphere suddenly became tense.
Sheng Junlie's hand froze in mid-air, and a red mark immediately appeared on the clear bones of his hand back. Waves surged in his calm eyes.
He took a step forward, grabbed her wrist and pinned her against the wall. His hot breath sprayed down, "What, you don't let me touch you, then who do you want to touch?"
Ye Ling bit her lip and turned her face away. The man's breath tickled her neck, and she trembled uncontrollably.
In the summer, her clothes were thin, and with her head turned, the lines of her neck were clearly outlined, like a swan waiting to be slaughtered, arousing the most primitive violent desire in humans.
