Upon hearing this, Song Wanyin unconsciously touched her lower abdomen, as if recalling the days when she was pregnant with Manman. Back then, she would often feel nauseous and dizzy for no reason, feel nauseous at the smell of oil, and couldn't eat anything. She would also toss and turn at night, and when she combed her hair in the morning, a lot of hair would fall out. She sighed softly, "That's true."
Before she could finish speaking, Manman suddenly leaned over, holding half a piece of sesame candy in her little hand and bringing it to her lips: "This is delicious, Mommy wants some too!" Song Wanyin looked down at her bright eyes, her heart softening instantly. She bent down and took the candy from her hand, savoring the sweetness in her mouth. Her brows relaxed, and a gentle smile appeared on her face: "But it's all worth it."
Looking at the scene before him, Meng Zhao suddenly felt that Song Wanyin was shrouded in a soft halo, which was very dazzling. He guessed that most mothers had the same idea as her. Although childbirth was difficult, seeing their children made them forget the hardships they had endured. So, those who could become mothers were not ordinary people.
But Meng Zhao was just an ordinary person. She was afraid of pain and even more afraid of death. She couldn't accept the fact that she would have a child. So she was facing a major problem that was directly related to her sexual happiness for the rest of her life: how to prevent pregnancy.
She had once thought about going all out with Shen Qinghe, but when it came to actually doing it, she always stopped at just kissing and hugging. It wasn't that she was reserved; in fact, Shen Qinghe, who had been well-versed in Confucian classics since childhood, was actually more proper than her.
That night, it was another intimate evening. The two were just snuggling together, talking intimately, when one of them suddenly fell in love. Before they knew it, their lips were touching. Shen Qinghe's kiss carried a long-suppressed heat, moving from Meng Zhao's lips to her neck, his slender fingers unconsciously caressing the sash around her waist.
"Mmm..." Meng Zhao suddenly cupped his face in her hands, her fingertips trembling slightly, and a soft sound escaped her lips, "Not yet..."
Shen Qinghe paused, his hot breath spraying onto her neck. He closed his eyes, suppressing the surging emotions within him, and buried his face deeply in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, I was presumptuous," he said, his voice hoarse.
Meng Zhao could clearly feel the burning heat coming through the thin fabric. She dared not move and waited for Shen Qinghe to recover slowly. Soon after, Shen Qinghe got up, carefully straightened her disheveled clothes, and then placed a restrained kiss on her forehead.
Because both of them had their own things to do during the day, they would often chat late at night. So, this kind of thing had happened more than once or twice. After a while, not to mention what Shen Qinghe was doing, Meng Zhao herself couldn't stand this kind of limbo. So, in order to avoid such incidents from happening again, she tried to control the time Shen Qinghe stayed, and would always send him away before they had even exchanged a few words.
This was a real hardship for Shen Qinghe. In order to avoid being discovered, he hadn't been able to see Meng Zhao for very long, and now the time had been drastically reduced. It was as if a dark cloud was hanging over his head, and it wouldn't dissipate for a long time.
That day, Meng Zhao finally couldn't resist his persistent gaze and softened her heart, letting him stay a little longer. Who knew that once he stayed, they ended up rolling around under the quilt again. When their passion was at its peak, just as Shen Qinghe's hand lingered on her waist, Meng Zhao suddenly woke up and tried to stop him, but he grabbed her wrist and pressed it above her head.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Was he planning a rebellion?
Just as she was about to reprimand him, Shen Qinghe pressed his thin lips to her ear, his warm breath brushing against her sensitive earlobe: "I know what you want, and I know what you're worried about. I learned a method in a book that doesn't require going inside... to make you happy. Will you... allow me to try it?"
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, with only the sound of their intertwined breaths lingering in the darkness. Meng Zhao gazed at Shen Qinghe, who was so close to him, his eyes flushed with passion, his lips glistening with moisture from their earlier caresses, and his eyes fixed on her, as if waiting for her permission.
Meng Zhao felt his mouth was dry and his throat moved involuntarily. He slightly opened his lips but did not speak. He just nodded almost imperceptibly.
This nod seemed to open a floodgate, and Shen Qinghe's eyes suddenly lit up with a burning light. He lowered his head and kissed her again. Although the movement was light, it carried an irresistible force. Just as Meng Zhao was dizzy from the kiss, she suddenly felt warm lips slowly moving down her jaw.
The tingling sensation sent a shiver down Meng Zhao's spine. His last shred of reason returned, and he abruptly pulled back, kicking Shen Qing on the shoulder. "No, no, we're not thinking the same thing."
Shen Qinghe, who had been very focused, was suddenly kicked and staggered before regaining his balance. He then bent his knees and moved forward, grabbing Meng Zhao's ankle and straightening her curled-up body. He asked in a low voice, "So what do you mean? What should I do?"
Meng Zhao was speechless at his question, her face flushed: "Don't worry about what I'm thinking, anyway, what you're thinking is no good! Sexual relations should be a mutual pleasure, how can it be just me enjoying myself? I can't do such a thing."
Before she could finish speaking, Shen Qinghe suddenly burst out laughing, leaning against Meng Zhao and trembling slightly. His warm breath sprayed onto Meng Zhao's neck, which made Meng Zhao even more annoyed.
"What are you laughing at!" Meng Zhao pushed him angrily, but he grabbed her wrist and pressed her against the pillow.
"I laugh at myself for being so blessed by God to have met you. As for what you said, I don't mind, as long as you're happy," she paused, her tone suddenly taking on a hint of coquetry, "but, if you're happy, could you pamper me a little more often?"
Meng Zhao was pinned down and unable to move. In this situation, she couldn't call for help and could only let him lead her to continue.
………………
Meng Zhao lay on her back on the bed, the brocade quilt beneath her torn and disheveled. The unfamiliar pleasure from before still lingered in her limbs, leaving even her fingertips numb and powerless.
Shen Qinghe, like a satiated cat, climbed over, his moist lips lingering near her ear. Meng Zhao suddenly snapped back to reality, and seeing that glistening face about to press against her lips again, she hurriedly raised her hand to cover his mouth, her numb legs straining to kick.
"Bang!"
With the sound of tearing fabric, Shen Qing fell off the bed, and half of the bed curtain was torn off and fluttered over his head.
Shen Qinghe hurriedly raised his hand and struggled to peek out from behind the gauze curtain. His hairpin had already been pulled off by Meng Zhao and he didn't know where it was. His hair could only fall messily to the side of his face. His clothes were wide open, revealing the collarbone that he had scratched red marks when he couldn't control himself. At this moment, his eyes were full of confusion, just like a big dog that had been wronged by its owner.
Meng Zhao also regretted kicking him down, but seeing that face, she was too ashamed and angry, so she could only say, "You, you, you, you get out of here right now, and don't let me see your face for the next three days."
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