The man's breath was still clean and biting, carrying an inherent oppressiveness that made it impossible to take him lightly.
He had his hands braced on either side of her, as if he was enclosing her in his arms, his posture extremely aggressive.
Before her was the man's warm touch, tinged with a dangerously fiery aura, behind her was the icy sensation of the washbasin.
The cold and the heat caused her to shiver slightly.
Lin Qian's hands pressed against Yin Moran's chest, her almond-shaped eyes darting around, afraid to meet his gaze.
"You... could you stand properly, and not be so close, okay?"
It made her brain go blank, having no idea what to say.
"Afraid to look at me? Feeling guilty? So you really want to draw a clear line between us, huh?"
The man's slender fingers pinched her delicate chin, his voice low and seductive, yet laced with a dangerously interrogative undertone.