Yan Qing clasped Ling Hua's hand in his, a frail and boneless little hand that he could break with slight use of strength, nothing like his own clearly articulated and rigid large hand—he could envelop her two little tigers with just one of his.
He knew well that women differed from men, but experiencing it firsthand still astonished him.
Her body was delicate and soft, her hands as tender as if they lacked bones.
He held his breath and massaged her hand, treating the small hand as if it were dough, and as if his own hands were not his, casting aside all sensation.
Ling Hua was extremely pleased, feeling that sewing for half a day and exchanging a pot of Ganoderma Lucidum Brew for Yan Qing catching her hand was truly worth it.
She remained quiet and delicate, waiting for Yan Qing to finish massaging one hand before starting on the other, all the while hoping that Liuli would take her time and not return too soon.
