Chapter 13: What are you doing? What are you doing?

The nights at Jiaoyue Wan have always been beautiful.

The manor stirred with a breeze, rippling the sparkling lake light; the treetops were pressed down by dense branches, touching the cool lake water bit by bit.

How fragrant — it's the scent of jasmine, not heavy or stuffy, fresh and clean, more enjoyable than the forest's air.

Shen Xingman lifted her skirt and slowly walked into the garden path.

The sun set behind the western mountains, the moon entered the Milky Way.

Tonight she found a perfectly good excuse to go home — her parents had come from afar to visit.

Qiao Yun easily believed it.

At that moment, she turned her head slightly and saw a person sitting on the pavilion's cool chair.

That person's profile was exquisitely delicate, as if cherished by the moonlight.

A pair of beautiful eyes hid beneath black hair, bearing a languid, wistful beauty; eyebrows like a painting, relaxed and aloof, like fine cold jade, like an unreachable fairyland of clouds and mountains.

He was a lively, fragile, hazy male spirit.

Even though Shen Xingman was exhausted to the point of near death, she still slowly stepped onto the stairs, wrapped in starlight, and walked up to him.

The night was thick as an inkstone, deep enough to seem unmeltable; the Milky Way entered dreams, like a heavenly curtain draped over the world.

Tonight's Jiaoyue Wan was especially sensual.

"..."

Shen Xingman looked at Mu Zhihan's current gaze and felt he could swallow her whole in one bite.

"Tired?"

The man didn't rise, lifted his head to look at her, and reached out to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

Shen Xingman supported her waist, lowered her eyes and sighed softly: "Yeah, this skirt is really heavy."

As she spoke, the man's gaze had already moved to her waist.

He especially liked this part of a woman — slender, alluring, seeming unable to be encircled by one hand.

"Does your waist hurt?" He noticed the sign.

【23) "..."

"……" Shen Xingman turned her face away, didn't speak, feeling a bit awkward.

"Sit down, I'll rub it for you." He gestured to the empty cool chair beside him.

Shen Xingman didn't refuse; she first tugged at the stray hairs stuck to her neck, then adjusted her skirt, and sat down on the cool chair as if relieved of a burden. The princess dress shimmered, taking up a large space.

Shen Xingman lay limp against the chairback, her back to Mu Zhihan, gathering her hair to one side.

Her dress was off‑shoulder, and the beautiful shoulder blades on her back made her look somewhat delicate and lovely.

The man took her waist, applied gentle pressure, and began to knead it skillfully.

His technique was excellent, like that of a professional masseur.

Shen Xingman also closed her eyes in great comfort, quietly enjoying this hard‑won leisure.

The bright moon quietly shed its clear light; the manor's colored lanterns smiled faintly like illusory splendor in the dusk.

Tree shadows swayed; a gentle evening breeze brought the fragrance from the woman's hair, and Mu Zhihan enjoyed it pleasantly, his hand's motion unconsciously pausing…

He boldly embraced her from behind, his broad chest pressing against her lovely shoulder blades.

Shen Xingman tilted her head and happened to see the man bending his waist, his Adam's apple resting against her right shoulder.

She thought that if the angle were just a bit more right, they might have already kissed.

"What are you doing?"

He held her tightly; Shen Xingman could clearly feel his heartbeat and breath against her back.

"My wife smells wonderful."

His voice was somewhat restrained, as if he were holding back something.

Shen Xingman shifted her shoulders: "Itchy."

As the man spoke, his Adam's apple moved up and down, sending a shiver through her.

But Mu Zhihan couldn't think of anything else; he only felt she was soft and fragrant, like a quilt, like a cat, like a cloud.

Thinking so, he began to lower his head to take in Shen Xingman's bodily scent, closing his eyes in satisfaction and indulging his greed.

Although he despised his own perverse behavior, he was deeply enamored and unable to free himself.

"You have my scent on you." The man said in a low, hoarse voice.

Shen Xingman frowned, tilted her head slightly: "Really?"

She was about to lift her hand to sniff, but unexpectedly Mu Zhihan rose and scooped her up horizontally.

Shen Xingman instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.

One lowered his head, the other lifted hers; their eyes met.

"What do you want now?"

"Go home."

That explanation was quite fitting.

Shen Xingman had no reason to resist; she simply nestled in Mu Zhihan's embrace, quietly admiring his clear jawline and flawless profile from every angle.

Finally they reached the living room, where Mu Zhihan gently placed Shen Xingman on the sofa.

"Have you eaten?"

He knelt beside her feet, peeled away the layers of fabric, and took off her high heels.

To be honest, this skirt is too thick — at least four or five layers — so it's no wonder walking is so strenuous for her.

"I have."

Shen Xingman braced her hands on either side of her thighs and answered wearily.

He then carefully massaged her feet.

Seeing him so earnest and gentle, Shen Xingman suddenly felt a warm sense of home.

After about five minutes, he stopped his movements, got up, and went to the bathroom.

When he returned, he placed a basin of hot water in front of Shen Xingman.

Mu Zhihan tidied the skirt's complicated hem, making sure the fabric wouldn't get soaked, then gently placed the girl's flawless, delicate feet into the water.

The water surface rippled outward in delicate circles from a central point.

The temperature was warm, and Shen Xingman felt extremely comfortable.

Her skin was fine, not the cheap pallor of a lifeless white; it resembled a March cherry blossom washed clean, fair with a natural hint of crabapple red.

Moreover, she was very slim, her figure excellent; when wearing a strapless dress, she was stunningly beautiful like a natural seductress, charming and radiant.

"Next time you come back, let me know and I'll pick you up."

He lifted his gaze to her, his eyes holding a light, soft starlight.

That was a gaze that easily makes one's heart flutter.

Shen Xingman unconsciously pressed her lips together, not responding.

After washing, Shen Xingman closed her eyes and curled up on the sofa like a soft-bodied creature.

Mu Zhihan knew her habit; when she returned utterly exhausted, she usually wouldn't bathe, just climb into bed and sleep until morning.

"Take off your skirt." Mu Zhihan had already sat down beside her.

Shen Xingman lazily said, "I don't want to move; I'm exhausted."

"Then I'll carry you back to bed to sleep." He asked her in a rare serious tone.

But Shen Xingman, who is jumpy at the slightest hint, instantly opened her eyes at a certain word: "What if I go in and you eat me?"

Mu Zhihan curled his lips in a smile: "Wouldn't that happen here?"

""

"My waist still hurts." She said helplessly, her tone soft and coquettish.

Her voice was very soft, even a bit reluctant, but Mu Zhihan's ears seemed to have a filter, automatically processing that sound as coquettish.

Roughly speaking, that's how it is—when you talk to me, it's as if you're being coquettish toward me.

"I can be gentle." How could he possibly pass up any chance to take advantage?

Holding warm, fragrant, soft jade in his arms is such a contented thing.

"But I really want to sleep," Shen Xingman said, drooping her eyes with a weary face, "I still have to discuss cooperation tomorrow morning."

"How pitiful."

The concern on his face carried a hint of amusement and indulgence.

"Yeah, we need to make money."

When she spoke, the faint fragrance on her body floated with her tiny movements, even when she sat still, it could tug at the man's nerves.

He not only lusts after people but also after flavor; his desires are stronger than an average man's.