The tip of the pen pressed against his morbidly pale skin. Her unsteady hand caused it to drag, leaving a stark, black slash of ink.
A stifled groan, thick with emotion, sounded beside her ear, followed by heavy breathing.
Beneath the skin her fingers held taut, veins throbbed faintly.
Jiang Qingli's cheeks flushed, and her grip on the pen wavered.
A moment ago, she'd only been thinking about those kinds of videos online where markings were inscribed on the male lead's body; she hadn't actually intended to write anything on him.
But some things, once started, weren't so easy to stop.
"Continue."
His lazy voice drawled.
In the bright light, Ye Linyuan was lounging against the sofa. His long lashes cast shadows on his face as he looked down, but his gaze was fixed squarely on her, not wavering for an instant.
He looked like a teacher hovering over a student's homework, demanding every stroke be perfect.
Yet his eyes held an unconcealable fervor.
