After a round of seemingly unwarranted arguments, Qian Sisi found herself at a loss for words against the man's well-reasoned explanations.
Bai Cheng'an took his usual paper fan, moved his chair next to Qian Sisi, thick-skinnedly lay down beside her, and then started to fan her.
The man's broad chest radiated heat onto Qian Sisi's back, and even the breeze from the fan could not ease the rising heat within her.
Was he really trying to fan her, or was he intentionally generating more heat?
As she pondered this, Qian Sisi "whooshed" as she turned around to face Bai Cheng'an, her eyes wide and round.
"What's the matter?" The man supported his head with one hand while fanning her with the other, his loose shirt hanging askew on his shoulders, revealing beautiful scapula bones and wheat-colored muscles, with one long leg stretched out and the other bent— the very image of a drunken concubine's languid posture, his gaze laughing.
