Dust of Concealed Light

Lin Xuan's body was rock hard, how was she going to do it? 

In just a few minutes, the servant was already sweating and panting. Her hands were sore, and she kept stretching them before continuing.

"Forget it, you don't need to massage me. Just rest at the side."

Lin Xuan twisted his neck. It was still quite comfortable.

The servant had no choice but to give up on the massage plan. However, she didn't rest. She moved a small stool to Lin Xuan's left and peeled the fruit on the table. Then, she fed it to Lin Xuan and even asked if he wanted imported fruit.

Lin Xuan was speechless.

After rejecting her good intentions, he was naturally interested in the imported fruits. However, when he thought about how many imported fruits had been delivered to this person who produced them, Lin Xuan immediately lost interest.