The living room had a tatami laid out with thick wool felt, and Mu Liang was reading while seagulls called outside the window—the atmosphere was peaceful and warm.
Mu Liang was absorbed in his book when Qiao Xia inched over to his side, leaning against him as if boneless. Mu Liang turned his head to look at her without saying anything. Qiao Xia's hand, seemingly unintentional, brushed against Mu Liang's, her ear tips flushing a hint of red.
She secretly admired Mu Liang's hand, placing her own on top to compare their sizes.
His hand was truly beautiful—long fingers, neatly trimmed nails, prominent knuckles, and a strong look about them—mesmerizingly so.
It was maddening.
Now whenever she looked at Mu Liang's hands, she felt they were the most beautiful she had ever seen.
Too... shameless.
