Peaches that ripen in August are white with a hint of pink, plump, juicy, and sweet.
They are so juicy that you could drink them straight with a straw.
The pinkish-white skin looks incredibly tender, and the flesh is even softer and more fragile, unable to withstand being rubbed or pinched. A slight press of a finger will leave a purplish-red mark.
Utterly tantalizing.
The zipper was pulled halfway down, the soft fabric parting to reveal the beauty's slender, fair back, as smooth as mutton-fat jade.
The pressure from the man's fingertips was dominant and firm, carrying a hint of ruthlessness.
Song Xinya let out a whimper, her voice trembling and soft, carrying a hint of begging.
Desire rolled in Qin Yuhe's dark eyes, suppressing the tide of passion in their depths. "The zipper is stuck."
Song Xinya blinked her thick, curled eyelashes, biting her soft, red lips. "I know."
What did the zipper getting stuck have to do with him pinching her back?
She asked him to help with the zipper, and he started pinching her.
Bad guy.
The zipper had caught the fabric of the dress. Qin Yuhe tugged at it twice, but the caught fabric wouldn't budge, still stuck tight.
"Do you still want this dress?"
Song Xinya vaguely guessed what he wanted to do. "What are you trying to do?"
Qin Yuhe: "Tear your clothes."
Song Xinya felt utterly speechless.
Why did men always like tearing women's clothes? What kind of bad habit was this?
A year ago on that night in the hotel, that man had been so impatient he tore her panties in half.
That was her favorite pair, newly bought, and even a brand name—Cosmo Lady—ten yuan a pair.
Big brand or small brand, it was still a recognizable name that almost every woman had heard of.
Not the kind of nameless five-yuan underwear you'd find at a street stall.
With Song Xinya's financial situation back then, she couldn't afford any designer lingerie or clothes.
Money was something you spent more of when you had it, and less of when you didn't. If you had money, you lived luxuriously; if not, you lived frugally.
You lived according to your income—the logic was that simple.
Song Xinya was a very practical person. She wouldn't pretend to be wealthy, and she wouldn't insist on buying designer clothes and bags when she had no money.
She spent within her means, resolutely refusing to be a slave to money. She managed her finances rationally.
Vanity was shameful, but careful budgeting was not. It was a clear-headed awareness of one's own economic level, and a kind of wisdom.
At the same time, Song Xinya clearly understood that now that she had married Qin Yuhe and become the leading lady of Beijing's elite high society, reaching a certain social class meant she needed designer clothes, shoes, and bags to match her status.
After all, a person had to treat themselves well, right?
When you have money, you should enjoy it, so you don't regret it when you're old.
The red dress Song Xinya was currently wearing cost 180,000 RMB.
Qin Yuhe had bought it for her.
When he said he would tear it, he didn't show a hint of hesitation or heartache.
Song Xinya had only worn this dress once and quite liked it. If he really wanted to tear something, she bit her lip and asked, "Can you change to a different piece of clothing to tear?"
Qin Yuhe's gaze swept over her. Her graceful figure was clad in only three items: a bra, panties, and the dress.
Beneath the hem of the dress was a pair of soft, smooth legs.
If he couldn't tear the dress, the bra obviously wasn't suitable either.
"Tear your panties?"
The low, deep male voice carried strands of a smile—playful, probing, very wicked, and very seductive.
Song Xinya: "Tear them when we get home tonight."
Qin Yuhe's lazy chuckle echoed from his chest, clearly wrapped in delight.
What was he so happy about?
She agreed to let him tear her panties, and he was that happy?
Pervert.
Song Xinya had little experience with men. Apart from the man in the hotel room a year ago, there was only Qin Yuhe.
Why were both men like this?
She wondered from the bottom of her soul: Did all the men in the world like to tear women's panties?
Qin Yuhe seemed extremely satisfied with Song Xinya's promise to "tear them when we get home tonight."
Holding the zipper, he gave it a hard yank, and the caught fabric was pulled free.
Song Xinya was stunned for a moment.
Didn't he just pull it out in one go? Why did he act like it was so difficult just now?
The zipper went all the way down, stopping at the juncture of her waist and hips.
The girl's waist was fair and slender; further down, a small, mysterious patch of pink fabric was exposed.
It was as if ants had crawled into Qin Yuhe's throat, a fine, tingling itch spreading outward.
His mouth suddenly went dry.
After leaning over for so long with her arms propped on the sink, Song Xinya's elbows were aching.
She stood up and looked at her elbows, which had turned red.
If she leaned there a bit longer, they might even swell.
She muttered softly, "This position is quite tiring."
Qin Yuhe looked at her with dark, profound eyes. "Tiring already?"
It hadn't even started, and she was already complaining of being tired.
She had only been bending over for a little while.
Song Xinya realized her words might invite wild imaginations, so she said, "The sink is made of ceramic. Pressing my elbows against it hurts."
Qin Yuhe: "Next time, put a towel down before you lean over it."
Song Xinya's drooping, long eyelashes fluttered. "I need to change my clothes."
Qin Yuhe turned, opened the bathroom door, and walked out.
The bathroom door closed, and he heard two clicks of the lock.
She actually locked him out.
They were a legally married couple. She was changing clothes, he stepped out, and she still locked the door.
Qin Yuhe smiled helplessly.
Mrs. Qin, you guard against your husband more strictly than against a thief.
Ten minutes later, Song Xinya walked out of the bathroom.
Qin Yuhe was sitting on the bed waiting for her. His long legs were naturally spread, his back bent forward slightly, his arms resting on his thighs, and his long, beautiful hands hanging loosely between his legs.
He looked up at her, his gaze landing on the area below her neck.
Her hands were tightly clutching the fabric at her chest.
Qin Yuhe: "Is the size wrong?"
Song Xinya: "The skirt fits fine, but the top is too tight around my chest."
Her soft, fair hands, slender as jade scallions, gripped the top, creating folds in the fabric.
He didn't know to what extent she meant by "tight."
Qin Yuhe: "Move your hands, let me see if you can wear it out."
Song Xinya looked hesitant and uncomfortable.
Qin Yuhe thought for a moment: "Did the buttons pop?"
Song Xinya: "...It's not that exaggerated."
After all, it was an 80,000 yuan Chanel outfit; the quality couldn't be that bad.
Qin Yuhe glanced at the skirt she was wearing, stood up, and walked over to the wardrobe.
He opened the door to the cabinet filled with his clothes and took out a white shirt.
Turning around, he handed the white shirt to Song Xinya, his gaze sweeping over the spot her hands were tightly gripping. "Wear mine."
"My clothes are big, they definitely won't fail to contain you, hmm."
It seemed this was the only solution now. Song Xinya didn't hesitate and reached out to take his white shirt.
In the split second she let go of her clothes, Qin Yuhe saw it.
She truly couldn't wear that top out. The gaps between the buttons were stretched wide open, revealing her lingerie and the snowy white curves.
Song Xinya took the white shirt and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she was draped in the oversized men's shirt.
He had a tall and lean physique, so his white shirt was excessively loose on her, completely hiding her slender, graceful curves.
She looked like a child secretly wearing an adult's clothes.
Qin Yuhe raised his hand to his collar and gave it a single tug, undoing his tie.
The black tie hung loosely over his chest, shattering his meticulous, ascetic aura and erupting into a wild, untamed sexiness.
It exuded an overwhelming, raw masculine magnetism.
Just looking at this scene made Song Xinya's face grow a little hot.
Qin Yuhe took off the tie, undoing the knot so it returned to a long strip of fabric.
He looped the black tie around the small of Song Xinya's back. Gripping both ends, Qin Yuhe pulled backward, causing Song Xinya to bump right into him.
As their bodies pressed together, the temperature in the room seemed to rise.
Qin Yuhe sat on the edge of the bed, with Song Xinya standing between his legs.
His hands moved deftly around her waist, tying the black tie into a beautiful knot that cinched in her slender, graceful waistline.
The tie from his neck had become a belt around her waist.
Thanks to his black tie, the originally oversized white shirt was suddenly brimming with a sense of high fashion.
Song Xinya looked at herself in the mirror. The combination of a men's white shirt and a black tie, paired with her Chanel skirt, didn't look jarring at all. Instead, it possessed a natural, effortless beauty that was even more eye-catching than her original outfit.
Qin Yuhe's idea to take off his tie and use it as her belt was simply a stroke of genius.
A brilliant concept. And highly practical, too.
Song Xinya felt that Qin Yuhe actually had a great eye for fashion and styling.
She picked up the discarded Chanel top and pointed to the chest area, which had been stretched slightly out of shape, showing it to Qin Yuhe.
Mr. Qin, the clothes you bought for another woman have been stretched out of shape by my overly full figure. Will that woman be upset?
Qin Yuhe raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. I can hear it. You sound very proud of yourself.
Song Xinya: After all, impressive proportions like mine are quite rare.
With the two of them positioned like this—her standing and him sitting—her chest was right in front of his handsome face.
His gaze swept over her. Very rare indeed.
Song Xinya: Will that woman be upset?
Qin Yuhe: I don't think so. She's quite magnanimous.
He didn't deny that the outfit was bought for another woman, and he even praised her for being magnanimous. How fiercely protective of her!
Regardless of whether the other woman was upset or not, Song Xinya was definitely upset right now.
Her husband had an outfit bought for another woman in his room, and he was even praising that woman's generosity. Who would be happy about that!
Song Xinya couldn't even be bothered to fold the top. She tossed it onto the bed and walked toward the door. You'd better hurry up and apologize to her. Don't break the poor girl's heart.
Qin Yuhe wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her right back, and pressed her down onto his lap.
Holding her from behind, he opened his mouth and gently bit her earlobe.
That girl is my actual younger sister, Qin Yuyan.
Mrs. Qin, buying a piece of clothing for my own sister isn't too much, is it?
The tip of his tongue licked across her fair, delicate earlobe.
The dress I bought for my sister cost eighty thousand, and the dress I bought for you cost one hundred and eighty thousand. Tell me, Mrs. Qin, am I a good husband or what?
