Mu Qian's body started to stiffen, she didn't know that every time she drew close, it was a form of torment for him. The faint fragrance drifted towards him, as she lay in the same bed with him, so close that with just an extension of his hand, he could pull her on top of him. She could bring him the peak of extreme pleasure, making one sink into it.
He clenched his fists tightly, his whole body's blood seemed to boil, clamoring to possess her.
Wen Jiaren had no idea that Mu Qian was thinking all this, nor did she know he was struggling to restrain his own desires, battling between his wants and moral compass.
After a long while, Mu Qian turned his head away and shifted towards the outer side of the bed, hugging his cold body.
Only then did Wen Jiaren lift her face from the book and, seeing his back, her eyes filled with sympathy, yet she dared not embrace him.
Seconds and minutes passed, and as the clock slowly struck three, the penetrating pain in his body gradually eased.
