"The wedding night hasn't arrived yet..." Su Zhiruan whispered theatrically into his ear.
Fu Huaichu's large hand seized her slender wrist, her pallor especially striking and thin against the red bridal gown. Half-leaning on her, his voice deepened, his eyes dark and profound, "Ruanruan, is now good?"
At this point.
It was only then that Su Zhiruan realized that the bridal gown had been restricting her movements all along.
With just two simple movements, Fu Huaichu lifted the hem of her skirt.
His slightly feverish hand climbed up her calf step by step.
...
Outside, the boisterous noises continued unabated; uncles and older men, drunk, began to sing and play finger-guessing games, basking in the long-missed excitement.
Meanwhile, the women quickly got their gossip out of the way and beamed, busying themselves with clearing the tables while calling their men to sober up and help out.
