Liu Zhizhong's embrace was broad and solid, springy with strength. Zhang Yuxing's delicate body shuddered at his touch, her entire being trembling as her heart began to race.
The faint smell of tobacco, mixed with the scent of wash products and hints of lamb and alcohol, formed a heady aroma that made Zhang Yuxing's face flush with waves of heat.
A nearly forty-year-old woman, still tender-hearted and girlish, now wrapped in the arms of a twenty-eight-year-old man – how could she not feel embarrassed?
Moreover, as a woman from the Yangzhou Zhang Family, she had always been proud, barely acknowledging Liu Zhizhong's existence, let alone regarding him with any respect.
But now, here she was in his arms, which felt almost like an insult. She couldn't bear it on a level of dignity!
For a moment, she was bashful beyond words, wanting neither to struggle nor to remain still, merely making a token effort before giving up.