Lin Yan's question went unanswered by Lu Chenyuan.
He couldn't give an answer because he didn't like any type.
Lin Yan was ill, feeling cold all over, and was groggy before falling asleep.
The restless sleeper Lin Yan rolled over and nestled into Lu Chenyuan's arms.
She tightly closed her eyes, her palm resting on his face, her knee pressing against the middle of his trouser leg. In her dreams, she always dreamed of her knee knocking against a hard rock.
Her soft and fragrant body pressed close, its burning heat felt through the fabric.
Lu Chenyuan had grown accustomed to the restless Lin Yan always moving closer to him.
The scorching heat on his body immediately alerted him that something was amiss.
His hand rested on Lin Yan's forehead, realizing she must be running a fever. Her small face, no larger than a palm, was in discomfort, tightly furrowing her eyebrows.
