Chen An stood at the doorway behind her, not quite understanding what was going through Su Meng's mind. To a man like Chen An, it seemed Su Meng was always washing her face. He didn't see what was so special about her face that it required such constant cleansing, especially since it looked pretty much the same after makeup.
Chen An certainly couldn't make sense of the things on Su Meng's face, but the pert and lifted buttocks behind her definitely caught his attention. As they swayed ceaselessly, they drew Chen An's gaze inexorably, his eyes glued to that enticing area, unable to look away.
But perhaps even for a face, this washing had gone on too long. Su Meng felt it was pointless, so she straightened up and looked over at a bench. She pulled a nail clipper from a drawer and, sitting down, she began to lift her snow-white, beautiful legs, acting as if Chen An didn't exist, wearing a short skirt and tending to her feet.
