Jiang Xingye hesitated for a moment, ultimately defeating his rationality.
Or rather, his selfishness had already considered Xu Qinghuan as his wife, subconsciously believing that after they had done those intimate things, they would never part again.
In this relationship, the humble one was always him.
The feeling was like a roller coaster, Jiang Xingye lay on his side, sweat dampening his temples.
...
Xu Qinghuan lay exhausted on the kang bed, her thoughts having ceased to function.
Finally, there was light in the room.
Jiang Xingye came in with a basin, wrung a towel to clean her hands.
The feeling between the two had become very peculiar; though they had been intimate before, and Jiang Xingye had once left his mark on her, it was nothing like the current feeling.
The way he looked at her had also changed; if it was with sincerity and admiration before, now it mixed with desire.
A man to a woman.
