Song Baiyan has always treated her gently.
He never displayed domineering behavior or exerted psychological pressure on her. On the contrary, he was always considerate of her feelings.
This tenderness made her feel as if she was soaking in warm water.
The appropriately warm water flowed over her skin without any aggression. Over time, she might feel drowsy, not out of boredom, but because she was in a constant state of comfort.
Sometimes, she felt like a corn cob in the field.
As for Song Baiyan, he was naturally the one who planted her.
From sowing the seeds to nurturing and watering, then stripping away the husks to grind on the chopping board.
Kernels of corn scattered, falling into the man's broad palms, poured into the stone mill's round hole, ground bit by bit into a boneless fineness.
In the darkness, Tang Li couldn't see Song Baiyan's face clearly.
However, when she slightly tilted her head, her chin touched the man's shoulder.
