Wei Anning tensed up, his buried position awkward. She carefully avoided his wound, cradling his head, "Leng Youchen, please lift your head up first."
Leng Youchen not only didn't listen, but also wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her between his legs. He took a deep breath, his nose filled with her unique sweet scent, and he sighed contentedly.
When he first decided to marry her, perhaps even he didn't expect that one day he would like her this much.
Wei Anning's eyelashes fluttered with shyness; unable to push him away, she found herself confined in his embrace. Though she was wearing a thick down jacket, she could still feel the heat of his breath piercing through the fabric, directly onto her skin.
"Darling, it hurts. Comfort me," the man's voice was low and mellow, with a hint of coaxing that completely softened Wei Anning's heart.
This was an injured man, after all. How could she bear to refuse?
