Late at night, the Xixiao Island was extraordinarily tranquil after the heavy rain, with a bright full moon hanging high above.
On the bed in the bedroom, Wen Jiaren pinned Mu Qian's shoulders down, flipping over to sit on top of him. Both of them were covered in sweat, and she rested her forehead against his, their uneven breaths intertwining, the air filled with the scent of indulgence.
"It's midnight, are you cold?" she breathed softly.
The sound emerging from Mu Qian's throat was deep and hoarse, carrying a post-feast laziness, his thin lips a bit unusually red, "Don't you already know whether I'm cold or hot?"
He was hot, burning hot, making her body tremble slightly. She covered his lips to stop him from saying any more of those embarrassing words, avoiding his devilishly handsome face and those gentle, deep eyes, "I wonder if Xiao'er has fallen asleep; he got hurt today while summoning the yin spirit..."
"Aren't you tired?" Mu Qian suddenly asked.
Tired?
