When Xiao Ming came out after his bath, Furukawa Shizuka was applying cream to her calves.
As the saying goes, when God closes a door, he opens a window.
The short and stout legs were an innate flaw of the people from the rising sun's land, unavoidable for Furukawa Shizuka, but her skin was so pale and delicate that it could make Fujiwara Rika, who labored over her skincare all day, die of jealousy.
If other women were compared to mutton fat jade or white porcelain, then she was tofu, tofu in soup.
Furukawa Shizuka had one leg bent, her foot on a soft stool, meticulously spreading the cream back and forth, utterly unconcerned about whether her spread-open bathrobe was revealing too much, and acting as if Xiao Ming didn't exist.
Xiao Ming was not shy either, sitting on the edge of the bed, drinking water and appreciating the sight.
Of course, it was pure appreciation; this little temptation was not enough to compromise his integrity.
