In this tranquil yet subtly charged bedchamber, the air between Mùróng Yān and me seemed to be entwined by the peculiar atmosphere.
I slowly reached out, gently resting my hand on her shoulder. My lips moved close to her alluring red lips, separated by a distance no thicker than a sheet of paper.
Her face, which usually radiated coldness and majesty—holy and unapproachable like a snow lotus atop a high mountain that never melts year-round—instantly flushed with a charming crimson at this sudden intimacy.
Chapter 26