Feng Yueming's entire face sharpened, like the edge of a blade, as he coldly stared at Nikoya lying on the bed, his eyes filled with icy disdain, "The woman I like doesn't need hands or mouth. The woman I don't like, even with those, is useless. Just hearing it makes me... sick to my stomach!"
He turned and walked over to the sofa in the room, then lay down and closed his eyes.
In the middle of the night.
Mi Yao felt an itch on her right ankle, as if a man's rough palm was caressing her delicate skin over and over, with incredible tenderness.
She thought she was dreaming. She turned over and continued to sleep.
But soon, her cheek also started to itch, cooled by the area Yading had slapped, as if someone was applying an ointment to it.
She shivered her fan-like long eyelashes and quickly opened her eyes.
It was not a dream. There was someone sitting by her bed!
