Song Qingwan brought out a pair of black, strappy, thigh-high stockings.
Zhao Dong scratched his head and cleared his throat. "What are you doing with those?"
Song Qingwan covered her lips, her face flushing like a peach blossom as she said shyly, "Don't you like them? I saw online that all you men do."
Zhao Dong exhaled a long breath, the sight of her igniting a fire within him. He pulled her into a tight hug, his voice deep. "I like them! I like you no matter what you're wearing!"
At that moment, Song Qingwan's breathing grew hot as well, and she kissed Zhao Dong passionately.
Soon, she gently pulled back and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'm putting them on," she said, her face flushed. "You... don't peek yet."
"Okay," Zhao Dong said, swallowing hard. He felt like he was on the verge of exploding. He heard a faint rustling, and a moment later, Song Qingwan's sweet, shy voice sounded out. "Ready."
