He held his breath, greedily drawing in the warmth that drifted from the girl’s body—the clean chill of mountain spring water mingled with the faint, natural fragrance that belonged to her alone.
The scent made his entire body tremble. When she turned over and exposed the back of her neck, his gaze darkened, a wild impulse surging within him—to bite down, to leave a mark that would belong to him alone.
But in the end, he only shifted his head ever so lightly, ever so slowly, moving closer… and closer.
The tip of his nose was almost touching her hair.
He could feel her breathing gradually even out, softly brushing against his cheek like a feather.
So cute…How can she be this adorable even when she’s asleep?
Ling Yue smacked her lips unconsciously in her sleep, as if dreaming of something, and let out a barely audible murmur.
His lips slowly approached hers. Her breath was fragrant too, spilling over the tip of his nose, his lips, his chin. He stared at her with a dazed, obsessed look, then gently bit down on her lips.
A bite.
He didn’t know how to kiss.He bit very lightly, not enough to wake her from her sleep.
Strangely enough, for the rest of the night, she slept very soundly.
The sunlight grew dazzling once more.
Ling Yue woke up from the heat—and from a faint but unmistakable sting on her lips.
Still groggy, she opened her eyes. The exhaustion from the night before seemed to have eased somewhat, but an inexplicable, hard-to-describe sense of unease lingered in her heart.
Instinctively, she stuck out the tip of her tongue and gently licked her lower lip.
Hiss—It hurt a little.
Not the pain of chapped lips, but more like the dull, slightly numb ache you get after accidentally biting the soft flesh inside your mouth.
She frowned in confusion and rubbed her lips with the back of her hand. The sensation felt subtly different, as if there was a trace of swelling that was hard to notice.Heatiness, maybe?
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. There was no one else in the tent.
Picking up the small mirror from the stool by the bed, she held it up to the light and examined herself carefully.
Her lips looked normal—no broken skin, no obvious redness or swelling. But on closer inspection, there was a tiny spot on her lower lip, just slightly darker than the surrounding color. It didn’t look like a scab, more like… the faint congestion of capillaries after being gently pressed or rubbed by something.
Maybe she’d bitten herself while half-asleep?
“Miss, are you awake?” Brother Long’s voice called from outside the tent.
Ling Yue put down the mirror and pushed that trivial discomfort to the back of her mind. “I’m awake. I’ll be right out.”
She responded, quickly pulled on her outdoor clothes, washed up, and tidied her slightly messy, sleep-tousled hair.
When she lifted the tent flap, stronger sunlight and a wave of heat rushed toward her, making her squint instinctively.
Low murmured conversations, children crying, and the clatter of pots and bowls mixed together. The air was filled with a jumble of smells—the raw scent of soil, sweat, and a faint aroma of rice with a hint of scorching.
Brother Long stood guard a few steps outside the tent. When he saw her come out, he said, “Miss, breakfast is ready. Over there.”
He pointed to a simple makeshift stove built from several stacked stones not far away.
Ling Yue walked over and saw her father squatting beside a dark-skinned old farmer, talking with him.
A large iron pot with a slightly warped rim sat on the stove, filled with overcooked noodles. She forced herself to eat a few bites. That was when she noticed a figure squatting not far from her, also holding a bowl of rice porridge.
Why is it him again?
When their eyes met, Jiang Muchen immediately lowered his head.