It wasn't clear whose blood it was, but that astringent taste prickled both parties' nerves.
Rather than calling it a kiss, it was more like a plunder by Yu Yanshen.
There was hardly any hint of tenderness, yet it bore a clingy embrace of affection.
Yao Qing's consciousness gradually returned, her lips burning hot.
The bright light from the bedside lamp took her a moment to adjust to, and instinctively she closed her eyes before opening them again—
Looking at the scene before her, her pupils contracted violently.
When she realized who the man before her was and what he was doing, her whole body trembled.
Her hand pressed forcefully against his shoulder, sending blood rushing to her head.
She suddenly stood up from the bed, the thin nightgown clinging to her body, making her appear fragile and light, as if she might be blown away by the merest breeze.