In the darkness, she couldn't see his face, but she knew he was the man she loved.
She couldn't help but start to fantasize.
As she daydreamed, an idealized beauty took shape in Ling Momo's mind—a face with frosty brows and eyes, lips red yet thin, and a exquisitely delicate contour, such allure, like an impossible scene from the real world.
Lost in thought, it took Ling Momo a long while to realize that the owner of this countenance was—Li Qingshen!
Ling Momo's eyes suddenly widened, snapping out of the intoxicating emotion that had enthralled her.
Enson noticed something was amiss and had to stop, asking, "What's wrong?"
Ling Momo knew it was her own issue and felt somewhat guilty. With her eyes closed, she murmured, "Tired..."
Her voice was soft, like a kitten's, provoking a surge of tenderness and sympathy in Enson. He thought about how he had been taking her, sometimes once a night, sometimes thrice, for over a month. It was no wonder she was so exhausted.
