The tear landed precisely on the back of Mu Qian's hand, propped up beside Wen Jiaren's face.
Mu Qian's breath had not yet stabilized. His head buried beside her face, his body had not calmed down from the recent peak of ecstasy until a drop of warm liquid hit the back of his hand. Only then did he lift his head, his gaze falling upon her pale face, the passion in his eyes cooling instantly.
He looked at the woman beneath him with her eyes tightly closed. Her eyelids were trembling lightly, and beads of water hung from her long lashes.
A surge of anger rose from the bottom of his heart. His hands, propped on either side of her, slowly clenched into fists. His voice was still hoarse, but it sounded icy and piercing to the ears, "If you were so unwilling, why didn't you say anything?"
Wen Jiaren opened her eyes and looked at him, her voice unusually calm, "Would you have stopped if I had spoken?"
"How would you know I wouldn't when you are not me?"
