When Huo Muchen was young, he was a cold and distant soul, a disposition that seemed ingrained, yet it was truly shaped by his childhood environment. He hadn't chosen to be this way; it was simply that misfortune in his family robbed him of a joyful childhood.
But in the moment when he noticed the little leopard's movement, Huo Muchen lowered his gaze slightly, and the next second, the little leopard's paw was accurately placed on his face.
He seemed momentarily stunned, while the little leopard, pleased to have touched its desired spot, squatted lightly on Huo Muchen's lap, pressing his cheek with small, rhythmic pushes. Huo Muchen felt no annoyance at this bold move—in fact, he felt a strange joy.
The soft paw against his skin was tender, smooth—its touch was exquisite.
