When Jiang Qingli came to her senses, she was already standing in front of the sink.
Through the mirror, she saw Qin Muye hugging her from behind. He kept his head down, not daring to look at her, his ear tips so red they looked like they could bleed.
Qin Muye turned on the faucet, and with a clear gush, cool water flowed over her fingers.
His long, broad fingers carefully worked up a lather, washing her hands.
Her knuckles were slender, her skin delicate and soft, and her fingertips had a healthy, pretty pink hue.
The white foam between her fingers made Qin Muye's mind flash back to the scene in the study. Her words echoed in his ears again, and a dizzying sensation left his mouth dry.
He increased the water flow to rinse off the foam.
After he dried them with a soft towel, her hands were clean and white again, as if they had never touched anything sticky or filthy.
Qin Muye stared for a few seconds, then reached out and placed his palm against Jiang Qingli's.
