He remained in that same backward-leaning, legs-spreading posture.
She bent down slightly, placing one hand on the floor outside his thigh and holding a pen in the other, leaning close to him.
"Hmm...where should I begin writing..."
She held the calligraphy brush and traced it across his bulging chest and well-defined abdominal muscles.
She hadn't met him yet.
Yan Zhuoxu's whole body was covered in goosebumps.
The muscles on her body began to ripple involuntarily, following the direction of her ink-black pen tip.
A loud thud in the chest.
He saw her face, and in her shimmering eyes, he clearly saw his own infatuation.
The cold ink suddenly landed on my chest.
Yan Zhuoxu couldn't help but gasp.
The brushstrokes flow freely.
They intertwine freely among the crisscrossing muscle lines.
Shen Zhiyi changed her movements, and her hand, which was supporting her on the ground, gradually moved closer to his.
At the very moment they were about to touch.
Yan Zhuoxu suddenly raised his hand, covering her with his large palm. The force was so great that it seemed he wanted to imprison her under his palm forever, not allowing her to go anywhere or be touched anywhere.
She's right.
It's both itchy and numb.
Every muscle in his body was taut, as if it were about to burst and roar, rushing forward to pounce on her.
He endured it with all his might, his eyes even turning bloodshot.
Shen Zhiyi paused, tilted her head to look at him, and asked innocently, "Master, you can't even take it?"
"Of the 260 characters in the original Heart Sutra, I only wrote less than two sentences."
She leaned closer to him and breathed softly.
"Master, tell me what comes next? I have a bad memory, I've forgotten a bit..."
Yan Zhuoxu breathed heavily, suppressing the urge to burst forth, and said in a hoarse voice, "Shariputra, form is not different from emptiness, emptiness is not different from form; form is emptiness, emptiness is form..."
Shen Zhiyi's breath hit his chest.
“How could it be empty?” she sighed. “The master was right there in front of me, so clearly…”
Her red lips touched his skin.
Yan Zhuoxu was shocked. He looked down in disbelief, grabbed her waist, and pressed her against his body.
"Shen Zhiyi!" he growled, calling out her name as a warning.
Every inch of his skin trembled.
The spot where she had just kissed him felt like a burning brand, etched into his heart.
“Master…” Shen Zhiyi clung to his neck, bringing her face close to his, her warm breath, tinged with intoxication, eroding his reason.
She said, "I clearly... I saw you perfectly clearly."
"I only see you."
"How could it be empty?"
His bewildered confusion, at that moment, burned away all his reason.
Heaven and earth spun, and scriptures burned.
Thousands of Buddha statues collapsed with a crash.
Yan Zhuoxu's eyes reddened, and his hands, gripping her waist, tightened firmly, as if he wanted to embed her into his own flesh.
yes.
She was right in front of him, clearly.
How could it be empty?
Yan Zhuoxu could no longer resist, and he lowered his head sharply to kiss her...
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