Shen Qinglan's appearance caught Chen Nan off guard.
His heart suddenly raced, as if thousands of horses were galloping in his chest.
His Adam's apple unconsciously bobbed up and down, and his breathing became hot and rapid, condensing into white mist in the chilly bathroom air.
Shen Qinglan's voice was as thick as honey, with a slight upward tilt at the end: "What, are you afraid I'll look?"
She leaned against the door frame, her slender fingers twirling around a strand of falling hair.
The affectionate glow in her eyes flickered mischievously, her eye corners tinted with a faint blush, like peach blossoms touched by dew in March.
Chen Nan's gaze was magnetically drawn, unable to look away.
Droplets slid down his tense abs, reflecting a honeyed glow under the light.
As he unconsciously puffed out his chest, the shadow at his collarbone clearly ebbed and flowed with his breath.
Shen Qinglan's gaze deepened abruptly.