Inside the house, the trio engaged in intense battle, Chu Dazhuang taking on the two women without showing the slightest sign of weakness.
Outside the wall, Zhang Shuhui hid beneath the window sill, revealing only half of her head, her eyes filled with envy and jealousy.
The Nazha sisters were like the incessantly churning waves, and Chu Dazhuang was the culprit stirring up the tumultuous sea, akin to a mighty salmon swimming upstream to its birthplace.
The three surrendered to their rampant surges of passion.
Outside, Zhang Shuhui's heart also heaved with tremendous waves, like ripe peaches on the verge of falling from the branch, basking in sun-pierced clouds.
Just waiting for someone to pluck them.
Yet, the one to harvest them was amidst the churning waves, leaving the ripened peaches dangling precariously.
Zhang Shuhui's heart itched unbearably, her body temperature seeming to rise several degrees—as if she were a fish being seared on a hot iron plate.
