The next morning, Ye Fan and Li Zhaojun prepared a generous gift and drove to Zhuo Junwu's house.
On the way, Ye Fan drove while glancing at Li Zhaojun several times.
Li Zhaojun, sitting calmly in the passenger seat, was looked at so many times that she asked, "Is something the matter?"
"Uh, actually, it's nothing much," Ye Fan said somewhat hesitantly.
Li Zhaojun smiled slightly and said, "Go on."
"Hehe, uh, when we meet Aunt Qing Lian later," Ye Fan said embarrassingly, "could you ask her how long it will be before we can, you know."
Last night, he had been tormented by desire all night. It wasn't that he was lustful, but sleeping next to a wife as beautiful as a fairy, and both being deeply in love, yet unable to consummate—it was unbearable for anyone.
"Wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to ask?" Li Zhaojun responded.
Ye Fan replied, "Aunt Qing Lian is a woman, and she's quite young, in her thirties…"
