Li Yiren wept bitterly.
Her tears quickly moistened Li Chen's lapel, leaving his shoulder damp.
Li Chen, however, didn't mind at all. Instead, he felt a vague surge of joy, naturally wrapping his arms around her graceful body, holding her gently, carefully cherishing her in his embrace.
As if trapped in a dream.
He wished time could stop at this moment.
Sister Yiren was the most beautiful dream of his youth.
Beautiful, gentle, virtuous.
Flawless.
Yet now, she was clinging to him like a wounded little woman, venting her emotions in his arms.
His heart was immensely delighted.
His arms tightened around her unconsciously, inhaling the rich fragrance from her delicate body, feeling utterly content and satisfied inside.
But after a moment, his body heated up, desire rising in him like wildfire. The soft, smooth body in his arms, freshly bathed and fragrant, and those two large, tender whites pressing against his chest, were too wonderful.
