Qin Yuhe looked down at the small foot stepping on his white shirt.
Slender and exquisite, with soft contours, the foot was small and perfectly proportioned. The skin was delicate and translucent white, the toes small and round, painted with red nail polish.
The snow-white skin against the bright red created a stark contrast, highly striking to the eye.
Because she had just washed her feet, the water droplets hadn't dried yet. Her toes pressed against his white shirt, leaving a dark, damp stain.
No one dared to step on Qin Yuhe.
He was a neat freak who couldn't tolerate a single speck of dirt. His hair and clothing were always impeccably tailored and expensive, his appearance perpetually spotless.
And no one dared to dirty his white shirt.
Now, Song Xinya had done both.
Not only had she done it, but she apparently felt it wasn't enough. Her toes, painted with bright red polish, pinched the button of his white shirt. With a deft twist and hook, she incredibly nimbly unfastened it.
The white shirt parted, revealing a gap.
Her beautiful, slender foot slipped through the gap, her soft sole pressing against his hard abdominal muscles.
Her toes stepped all over his abs, varying in pressure and changing up their tricks—hooking, grinding, gripping, and poking.
Her rounded toes traced the lines of his abs, slowly and meticulously stepping over every inch.
She used her toes to trace the outlines of his eight-pack.
Her hands hadn't even touched his eight-pack yet, but her foot had gotten there first.
Because her leg had been stretched out the whole time, she inevitably lost a bit of strength. As Song Xinya's foot trailed further down Qin Yuhe's abs, she failed to control her force. Her foot slipped downward, stepping heavily on him.
A low, muffled groan spilled from Qin Yuhe's chest. "Mmh..."
Did it hurt?
Seeing his slightly furrowed brow, Song Xinya quickly retracted her misbehaving little foot.
"Mr. Qin, I didn't mean to."
Qin Yuhe's dark gaze swept over her foot before he looked up at her. "I think you did it entirely on purpose."
Song Xinya couldn't quite tell if he was genuinely angry or just annoyed, so she hurriedly stood up. "My foot is all dried off, I'm going to sleep."
She was standing while he was sitting. From this angle, his entire field of vision was filled with her snow-white thighs.
Before Song Xinya could even take a step, Qin Yuhe's large hand grasped her thigh, caressing it back and forth.
His palm was warm and dry. His fingertips kneaded the tender skin of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of red marks on her pale, delicate skin.
A dangerous aura coiled around them, like a viper slithering up her thigh. The thin calluses on his hand felt like scales, their rough texture sparking a flurry of fine shivers as they glided over her.
Song Xinya's cheeks burned crimson.
Nervous, she struggled forward with the leg he was holding, trying to escape.
Qin Yuhe tightened his grip, his fingers and nails pressing into her soft flesh, sending a continuous, tingling ache through her.
"Why are you hiding? Didn't you just ask if I wanted to touch your legs? I'm using my actions to tell you..."
Smack—he landed a heavy slap on her fair, tender thigh.
The sound was crisp and loud, inducing a wave of embarrassment.
After the slap, he held her leg even tighter, his palm scorching hot.
"I do."
The shape of her legs was exquisitely beautiful—fair, long, and well-proportioned. The skin was luminous and smooth. They were slender but not bony, pleasantly plump in all the right places, flowing smoothly like a carefully sketched painting.
Slender jade legs.
No man could possibly dislike them.
Qin Yuhe recalled a vulgar internet slang term that was once popular: legs you could play with for a year.
Song Xinya's face was flushed with a captivating hue. Because of her shame and fluttering heart, her lips were a shade darker than usual, ripe and red.
"I was just joking with you earlier."
Qin Yuhe: "I took it seriously."
Song Xinya: "...Can I take it back?"
Qin Yuhe: "I refuse your take-back."
Song Xinya's mind spun quickly. "I refuse your refusal."
Qin Yuhe grabbed both of her thighs with his hands, hoisted her onto his shoulder in one swift motion, and strode over to the double bed, tossing her onto the mattress.
"Mrs. Qin, your refusal is invalid."
Song Xinya's head spun. Before she could process what was happening, his heavy weight pressed down on her.
"Mmh..."
Qin Yuhe held her thigh with one hand, while the other suggestively stroked her face. His long fingers trailed slowly down her soft, pale cheek in a flirtatious and teasing manner.
"Have you recovered yet?"
His surging male hormones were overwhelming, dominant and overbearing.
Song Xinya felt nervous and jittery. She pushed against his chest with both hands. "It's still a little hurt."
She wasn't lying to him; she really hadn't fully recovered yet.
When she applied the ointment, she didn't feel much, but today she had tried going without it and felt a sting when walking.
She had hurriedly reapplied the medicine.
Qin Yuhe: "So today, I can still only look but not eat?"
He was busy with work and often had to travel, so they didn't have many chances to see each other to begin with. A fully functional adult man had his needs. When they finally met up and she couldn't fulfill her wifely duties, it was a bit hard to justify.
Song Xinya squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands into little fists. "If you really, really want to, then come on."
Her eyelashes fluttered, like a breeze resting on her eyes.
Qin Yuhe: "Mrs. Qin, this posture of yours reminds me of the phrase 'facing death with unflinching courage.'"
"..." Song Xinya said, "I'm not."
Qin Yuhe: "Let's use another phrase: 'dying a heroic death.'"
He got off her, his tall, handsome frame sitting to the side. One leg hung off the edge, touching the floor, while the other rested on the bed in a relaxed, unrestrained posture.
In his ink-black eyes, the lust hadn't completely faded yet.
Song Xinya sat up on the bed and reached out to poke his shoulder. "Are you mad?"
Starting a fire in someone and then refusing to put it out was indeed a bit immoral.
It showed a lack of bedroom etiquette.
Qin Yuhe looked down at the white shirt on his body. A button at his waist was undone, and a ring of water stained the fabric—a stark contrast to the spotless, meticulous perfection he usually pursued.
He hated dirt and chaos; he liked cleanliness and order.
But he didn't hate the marks she had left on him.
Qin Yuhe turned to look at her. "Why would I be mad? I wouldn't get mad at you."
A joyful light flickered in Song Xinya's eyes.
Qin Yuhe raised an eyebrow, giving her a preemptive warning: "But don't do this again in the future."
Song Xinya: "A warning the first time, and anger the second time—is that what you mean?"
"No..."
Qin Yuhe looked deep into her eyes and said, "I don't like dry teasing. I like the real deal."
Song Xinya's cheeks instantly flushed completely red. Her eyelashes drooped in a shy arc as she nodded. "Mmh."
She wanted to quickly turn the page on this incident and change the subject. "Mr. Qin, hurry up and go take a shower. It's getting late, we should go to sleep."
Qin Yuhe said, "Wait a minute..."
Wait for what?
Did he need to work?
Song Xinya waited and waited. After a good while, she saw that Qin Yuhe was just sitting there quietly, making no move to get up and work.
She looked over at him curiously.
Then she understood.
Song Xinya, the main culprit, knew she was in the wrong. Pretending she hadn't seen anything, she crawled to the head of the bed and lay down.
Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed over her. Qin Yuhe grabbed her shoulder with one hand and seized her slender waist with the other, swiftly flipping her over.
Smack—he delivered a heavy spank right onto her perfectly round bottom.
"If you flirt with me from now on, you'll have to take responsibility for it. Understood?"
Song Xinya lay on her stomach on the bed, burying her burning face deep into the pillow. She gripped the bedsheets tightly, her palms damp with sweat.
Her voice trembled delicately.
"I... I understand..."
