Shen Yanhe was caught off guard as he embraced her, engulfed by his distinct, crisp scent. The force around her waist was so strong it nearly felt as if it would snap.
Even pressed so close to her, Fu Yanhe still found it not enough and nuzzled closer and closer into her chest, crying out, "Cold..."
In his dazed state, he seemed to have returned to that dark, bitterly cold, and very cramped little room, where the chill eroded him from all sides, dragging him deeper into the abyss.
Embracing Shen Yanhe was like holding on to his own sun.
Qi Fang, standing behind Fu Yanhe, watched as their usually cold and indifferent young master actually took the initiative to hug the young madam, even rubbing against her and acting coquettishly, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
Yet, inside he felt profoundly relieved.
Thank goodness the young madam was by his side. Otherwise, the young master would have to endure it alone, just like before.
