Yang Fan rushed to the bathroom, happily took a shower, and cleared his mind a bit.
When he came out of the bathroom, the courtyard was quiet, and there were no voices of Zhou Wenhui and Ye Tong from outside the house.
It was almost noon. Where had those two gone?
Yang Fan couldn't help but feel puzzled.
With what had just happened, Yang Fan worried that Zhou Wenhui, seeing his reluctance, might think of other ways to deal with Shen Lin—God forbid she did something impulsive.
Thinking this, he became a bit nervous, quickly went outside to check, and then started searching from room to room.
Yang Fan's house was a wooden building passed down from his grandfather.
It had two floors and a loft, with a second entrance to the courtyard. Outside there was another courtyard with two single-story houses, formerly the study and the guest room, now used by Yang Fan as the living room and kitchen. The wooden building contained the bedrooms for three people.
Yang Fan searched the first and second floors one by one, but he couldn't find the two. This made him even more anxious. Zhou Wenhui might not have gone directly to Shen Lin, had she?
Standing at the staircase on the second floor, he took out his phone to call Zhou Wenhui but suddenly heard from upstairs a fluctuating moan, delicate and soft.
That was sister-in-law Ye Tong's voice.
Yang Fan's mind buzzed instantly—was his sister-in-law being done by someone?
Shit!
Anger shot to Yang Fan's forehead.
For his sister-in-law, who wasn't in a real marriage with his elder brother, he had harbored a secret crush for more than a day or two.
He had only touched her hand, and now someone else had bedded her?
This was something Yang Fan couldn't accept at all.
Suppressing his rage, he tiptoed towards the loft upstairs.
Yang Fan sneaked near the loft, peering through the cracks of the wood into the interior.
At that glance, Yang Fan's eyes widened.
His sister-in-law was indeed being done, but it seemed not entirely...
At the moment, in that sun-drenched loft, where Zhou Wenhui's flowers bloomed competitively, Yang Fan's usually gentle and sweet sister-in-law was lying naked on the windowsill, her slender waist slightly dipped, as she tiptoed her pale and impeccably round buttocks high up into the air.
Behind her, with a darker complexion than Ye Tong, looking not as tender but still very pale, Zhou Wenhui squatted behind Ye Tong. She lifted her chin and gently teasled with her rosy tongue the alluring slit that was dripping wet.
Yang Fan stared, his eyes glued to the sight, quietly swallowing his saliva as it became dry.
He had never realized that Little Mother and sister-in-law could have such a relation.
It was no surprise to Yang Fan that Zhou Wenhui would do such a thing. It was normal for her to act so unbridled as she was always outspoken, but his gentle, sweet sister-in-law was also...
Yang Fan's eyes were tightly fixed on the spot Ye Tong was being caressed by Zhou Wenhui's tongue.
The girl's tender skin glistened flawlessly, like drops of dew hanging there.
Heat coursed through his body, quietly converging in a specific place, then forcefully pressed against the stairway.
He felt an impulse—he wanted to burst in and wedge himself between the two women.
He wanted to fiercely plow into his sister-in-law's ripe tenderness, to thoroughly indulge in the tightness and warmth it offered.
But…
Yang Fan forcibly suppressed this urge.
He knew he couldn't do that.
Little Mother and sister-in-law could play together, but adding him would totally change the nature of it.
Just the sight of her naked form was enough to make his father's image leap eagerly into his mind.
After all, Little Mother and his father didn't have much materially between them.
But their relationship was still there.
The romance between Zhou Wenhui and Yang Fan's father was slightly elevated.
They were involved in a platonic love. Physical interaction—zero.
Zhou Wenhui was a pen pal of Yang Fan's father, exchanging letters for nearly ten years, but they had never met.
Ironically, just when Zhou Wenhui decided to move to the countryside and spend the rest of her life with Yang Fan's father, an incident occurred to his father.
The two who had just registered their marriage, ended up going their separate ways.
Zhou Wenhui, a woman who, it seemed, had only experienced romance and never married, suddenly became a widow and a stepmother overnight, gaining a daughter-in-law and a son.
At that moment, Zhou Wenhui's voice rose in the loft, "Xiao Tong, turn around, help me."
The delicately moaning Ye Tong, her face flushed with arousal, turned around.
With that turn, Yang Fan's pupils dilated sharply, his gaze fixed once again.
Her figure was simply too perfect, almost deadly.
Her breasts were of just the right size, full and round, with a waist so slim it could be encircled by his hands.
What's more crucial was his sister-in-law's skin—it was so fine it seemed like a baby's.
It's often said that a fair complexion hides flaws. Having such tender skin instantly increased her attractiveness exponentially.
If this figure were on someone with darker skin, it definitely wouldn't make Yang Fan's heart pound like a drum.
Zhou Wenhui and Ye Tong switched positions, with Zhou Wenhui lying at the window while Ye Tong squatted behind her.
Actually seeing Zhou Wenhui was a bit difficult for Yang Fan, with the image of his father always ready to leap forward.
But at the moment, he felt like an arrow strained on its bow, hardly able to hold back.
He cast aside all distractions, his gaze squarely on them once again.
Zhou Wenhui's buttocks were considerably larger than Ye Tong's, looking plump and extensive.
His Little Mother's figure could be considered typically voluptuous, slim when dressed, substantial when undressed.
Her legs were tightly pressed together, completely seamless.
Her form was slightly different from Ye Tong's, like a blooming bud.
However, that bud was now drenched by dew, and even the petals seemed slightly adhesive.