The room’s light was warm and soft, casting a gentle glow even on Qin Xiaoye’s wildly handsome face, making it seem tender.
His forearm muscles bulged, veins spreading across the back of his hands, extending upward—both desirous and wild.
His voice was unusually low and hoarse, his breath sweeping across Jiang Wei’s skin, stirring up a ripple of coolness. “Let me hold you, is that okay?”
Jiang Wei found this way of asking permission at every step both shameful and somewhat reassuring. She was afraid that Qin Xiaoye would just act without any regard, and based on what she had learned online, it would definitely hurt.
Jiang Wei tilted her head up, her skin fair, her eyes crystal clear, her whole body snow-white, wearing only a short camisole dress, like a lychee stripped of its shell—fresh, tender, and delectable.
She fluttered her eyelashes lightly and said softly, “Mr. Qin, yes.”
Her voice was soft and cottony, like a feather tickling its way into one’s heart.
Qin Xiaoye’s eyes darkened. “Let me take off my pajamas and hold you, is that okay?”
Jiang Wei’s breath caught. Her eyes rested on the muscles visible through his pajamas, her fingertips going weak, her voice tinged with coquettishness: “Yes.”
Qin Xiaoye’s black pajamas slid off, mingling with Jiang Wei’s pink outer garment. The masculine scent on his body grew even more intense.
He revealed his firm muscles, shadows beneath them, deep and well-defined. His upper arm muscles bulged with power, veins standing out on his forearms.
The moment his pajamas fell away, he pulled Jiang Wei tightly into his embrace. Jiang Wei’s face pressed against his muscles, and she could hear his strong, powerful heartbeat.
Qin Xiaoye seemed as if he wanted to crush Jiang Wei, holding her firmly in place. His massive body enveloped her, and Jiang Wei’s snow-white arms could only rest on his back.
Her delicate fingers gently clutched his spine. Her fair skin against his firm, powerful muscles created a striking contrast, intensely impactful.
Jiang Wei felt her body being strongly compressed, as if she would be crushed and squeezed into Qin Xiaoye’s flesh and blood.
Her face was pressed directly against his muscles, pushed hard, leaving her unable to catch her breath.
She struggled to breathe, gently exhaling, her breath landing on Qin Xiaoye’s skin.
A warm, moist patch.
Qin Xiaoye felt the blood in his body boiling.
Her body was so soft, so supple.
So comfortable to hold.
At this thought, his arms tightened even more, like iron walls, leaving Jiang Wei unable to move.
Jiang Wei never imagined that a hug could be so tight it made her feel short of breath.
Qin Xiaoye slowly released her.
He calmly turned around, took a white shirt from the wardrobe and put it on, then black dress pants, paired with a belt, even a tie, and casually pulled out a dark gray twill suit.
He tucked away all his muscles, his powerful waist and hips, beneath his clothes.
Leisurely and unhurried, he held the suit in his hand, glanced at Jiang Wei, and said very politely, “Go to sleep early. Goodnight.”
The handmade white shirt looked crisp and elegant on him, with a noble air mixed with a wild, handsome charm. His entire figure was tall and graceful.
It was just that the white shirt was stretched so taut across his chest it looked ready to burst open.
The nearly out-of-control breath from moments ago, the ragged breathing—all of it was reined in, as if it had never happened.
After saying goodnight, he pushed open the bedroom door and shut it with a “bang.”
The room fell silent.
Jiang Wei was dazed, and dizzy too.
That was it? Goodnight?
Jiang Wei turned to look at the vanity mirror. Her snow-white skin was flushed with red. Beneath her camisole dress, her fair, slender legs were exposed. Her hair was messy, her lips red and moist.
Her back was damp, and her body was soaked with sweat as well.
The places he had held her, where skin brushed against skin, tingled numbly, like tiny electric currents darting chaotically through her body, sparking across her skin in waves.
She stared at that door, dazed for a few seconds.
She blinked, and intoxicated by Qin Xiaoye’s scent, felt a little dizzy. Weak in both hands and feet, she climbed onto the bed.
She lifted the blanket.
Qin Xiaoye’s scent enveloped her directly, seeping into her pores, making her tremble.
She silently repeated to herself: Get used to it, get used to it…
She had read in the materials that when a Guide is unfamiliar with a Sentinel’s scent, it easily causes dizziness. Over time, the situation would improve considerably.
This mild numbness was meant to make the intimate process smoother, and also to stimulate the Guide’s sensations.
She wrapped herself in the blanket and fell into a deep sleep.
She slept on her side, her ear pressed against the pillow. In her dreams, the hot breath Qin Xiaoye exhaled seemed to flow in and out beside her ear, rushing over her warm and ticklish, numb and tingly.
She began to sweat again.
Beneath her palm was the feel of Qin Xiaoye’s muscles, pulsing like a heartbeat at her fingertips—it felt very nice…
By morning, that sensation still hadn’t faded.
She hurried to take a shower.
To be fair, in this marriage, Jiang Wei had gotten the better end of the deal.
Qin Xiaoye was true nobility, the head of the Qin family. The Qin family had been built up through generations, and by Qin Xiaoye’s generation, he took power at twenty-four. Now twenty-eight, he had already taken full control of the Qin family.
He was capable and shrewd, had status, a good physique, and an even more handsome, striking face.
He had once been rated the most handsome power-holder in Jingzhou—one look at him could make you pregnant.
Jiang Wei, on the other hand, was merely a fake heiress, running a barely-alive pet hospital that lost more money than it made.
In the words of Jiang Wei’s adoptive mother, Xu Mo: mismatched.
But what she hadn’t expected was that it was a different kind of mismatch—one that made their originally unfamiliar marital relationship become unbearably awkward, faces flushed and hearts racing.
After that highly invasive embrace with Qin Xiaoye, Jiang Wei hadn’t seen him for over ten days.
Zhang Ma said Qin Xiaoye was very busy with work, often traveling on business. He only came home occasionally, and when busy, he would stay at the company or a hotel.
A man like Qin Xiaoye kept his whereabouts private. Jiang Wei had added his assistant Xiang Dong on WeChat, but it wasn’t appropriate to ask.
After all, they really were strangers as a married couple.
Living in Qin Xiaoye’s home, she actually felt freer.
Zhang Ma was very good to her—so good that it made her wonder: why could a stranger be so polite and friendly to her, while the mother who had raised her for over twenty years spoke to her with venom?
The better Zhang Ma treated her, the more bitter she felt inside.
At the Jiang household, she had been cautious and meticulous. Her status had become awkward; she had to consider Jiang Wan’s feelings.
She couldn’t be too close with family, couldn’t use intimate forms of address, couldn’t use nice things, couldn’t say the wrong thing—otherwise Jiang Wan would cry and throw tantrums.
It kept Jiang Wei in a constant state of tension, afraid that any little thing she did would make Jiang Wan sensitive and take it personally.
Once, Jiang Wei wore an LV classic mother-of-pearl necklace. Jiang Wan stared at it with red-rimmed eyes, then began to cry.
Xu Mo glared at Jiang Wei, then softly comforted Jiang Wan, transferring her a million to buy jewelry. But Jiang Wan still stared at the mother-of-pearl necklace on Jiang Wei’s fair neck, saying nothing, still crying, crying harder and harder.
Jiang Wei understood. She took off the necklace and placed it in Jiang Wan’s hand, coaxing gently, “Wanwan, don’t cry anymore.”
This mother-of-pearl necklace wasn’t really fine jewelry—it was worth just over ten thousand. Jiang Wei hadn’t thought much of it when she put it on.
Jiang Wan choked back sobs, clutching the necklace in her hand, a smile curling at the corners of her lips.
It wasn’t that Jiang Wan wanted a necklace—she wanted Jiang Wei’s necklace.
As Jiang Wei went upstairs, Xu Mo called her to a halt, and a sharp “smack” landed across Jiang Wei’s face. “You know perfectly well how sensitive she is. Why do you keep provoking her? Are you doing it on purpose?”