The night dew soaked the stone steps of the mansion. Xie Yun was reeking of alcohol. He stood in front of the door for a moment before raising his hand to push it open.
Zheng Wanqing was wearing a plain bathrobe and leaning against the table. She tapped the teacup with her fingertips, and the lingering aroma of Longjing tea filled the air.
He glanced at the red dates, peanuts and longans arranged in the shape of the Chinese character "囍" on the silk quilt and unfastened the silver button on his collar. He had originally asked the housekeeper to simply decorate it, but he didn't expect that he would still follow the old custom.
He picked up a cup of tea and drank it all, his Adam's apple rolling as he swallowed the tea. The bitterness, mixed with the remaining alcohol from the banquet, burned his throat like charcoal fire.
"Madam, you are quite free."
"Young Marshal, are you enjoying the socializing?" Zheng Wanqing didn't look up. The part of her neck exposed at the intersection of her bathrobe looked like a jade sculpture under the sunlight. "Did Consul Matsui teach you a few words of Japanese to liven up the party?"
Xie Yun turned a deaf ear to her sarcastic words and went straight to the bathroom.
The smell of alcohol was so strong, and I didn't know how much he had drunk, but he didn't look drunk at all.
The sound of water dripping in the bathroom made Zheng Wanqing a little confused. She stared at the tea leaves stretching at the bottom of the cup. Suddenly, she felt her throat tighten, and the belt of her bathrobe was wrinkled without her knowing when.
When the bathroom door opened, steam rose up and Zheng Wanqing looked over when she heard the sound.
Xie Yun walked over on the wet floor tiles, the straps of his bathrobe hanging loosely around his hips, drawing a dangerous arc as he turned around.
Broad shoulders held up the outline of the bathrobe, water drops wiped off the chest meandered down along the muscle grooves, and fine light reflected on the well-defined abdominal muscles, finally disappearing into the shadow between the waist and abdomen. There was an old two-inch scar on the side of the waist and abdomen, extending into the depths of the bathrobe.
He wiped it casually with a towel, and a few strands of wet hair fell in front of his forehead, making his eyes, which always contained a cold light, look soft as he heard the rustling sound of his knuckles rubbing against the stubble.
Zheng Wanqing had seen the marble statues at the Paris Academy of Fine Arts, but she had never imagined that real male flesh could be so aggressive.
He keenly caught her gaze, and deliberately ran his slender fingers over the straps of his bathrobe, slowly and carefully tying a loose knot.
Zheng Wanqing hurriedly lowered her head to sip tea, her hands randomly touching the hair beside her ears, but she couldn't hide the blush spreading on the tips of her ears. She didn't see that Xie Yun's lips were smiling for a moment.
"The tea is cold. I'll go get a hot cup." She stood up suddenly, and the silk laces were caught on the paperweight.
"No need." A low, husky voice with moisture came from above his head, and Xie Yun's eyes fell on the white neck exposed at the intersection of her collar. He leaned in closer, his taut abdominal muscles were within reach, emitting amazing heat.
When Zheng Wanqing was about to loosen the straps, a hand reached out, and the rough fingertips accidentally rubbed the delicate skin on her wrist, and the bony fingers untied the tangle. When he stood up, the front of his bathrobe was completely open, and the hanging fabric only covered the key parts.
"Take a break. You've been busy all day." As soon as the words fell, red dates and longans fell to the ground, sounding especially crisp in the silent night.
Zheng Wanqing heard her own voice was unusually dry: "Your hair is still wet..."
"It's okay, let's do it."
Zheng Wanqing pursed her lips and said no more. She turned off the desk lamp and got into bed.
The bed sank slightly, and the scent of pine wood mixed with soapberry wafted over. Zheng Wanqing curled up and turned sideways, but when she turned around, her elbow accidentally touched his waist. She froze in place and heard Xie Yun's breathing suddenly slow down for a beat.
Xie Yun was a little drunk and tired, "Go to sleep, I won't force you."
Zheng Wanqing's taut nerves suddenly loosened, and the sound of her faint breathing soon filled the pillow.
Xie Yun stared at the brocade patterns on the ceiling and kept closing his eyes until the window turned pale.
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