Huai Fu Yueming squatted down and picked up the apron that had fallen at his feet, an aqua-colored apron with lace trim that suited his slightly playful and girly aesthetic taste.
...
Huai Fu Yueming had a very long dream.
It was at Lanzhu Residence, his former Young Commander Mansion, where he sat on the sofa in the study, a woman seated on his sturdy thighs.
He closed his handsome eyebrows, his adam's apple rolling, and his large palm tightly squeezing the woman's soft waist, wishing he could kill her.
The woman's face gradually became clear, and he saw that it was... Mi Yao.
He suddenly opened his eyes.
This wasn't Lanzhu Residence or his President Mansion; he was still in the woman's apartment. It was now early morning, and the splendid morning sun shone through the window gauze, scattering warmth around the room.
Yet, his face was dark, gloomy, and irritable.
He raised his hand to cover his handsome forehead and got out of bed.
