He froze for a moment.
The woman's palm felt unlike any he had touched before. It was warmer, stronger, not as delicate or smooth, not fragrant either. There was a hint of dirt and leaves.
He inhaled deeply again, then rubbed his nose against her palm. It felt so comfortable.
You Mingxu widened her eyes, withdrew her hand and then stretched out to slap him. Those people were still far away; she had some measure of control and was not worried about being heard. He immediately covered his face, pouted his lips, and furrowed his eyebrows. You Mingxu, a woman with a keen aesthetic sense, could not bear to see a face even more handsome than Gu Tiancheng's distorting into such a grotesque expression. She simply turned her head, not bothering to deal with him.
However, either out of habit or obedience, as the people gradually approached, he sat motionless, making no sound, just like her.
What she saw before her fueled her inner rage.
