Lan Tian wasn't dead, after all. In her past life, she had had her share of men. Their conjugal life may not have been frequent, but it did exist. Later on, when she wandered outside, she saw much, heard much, and witnessed even more. She instantly recognized Mo Junhua's restrained panting as that of a hooligan's. Without a change in expression, she shifted away and secretly swore that if Mo Junhua dared to make a wrong move, she would knock him unconscious and give him a beating.
Moving aside was useless; it couldn't separate their body heat. Her nose was still filled with the girl's cool body fragrance, an effect no less potent than if they were lying close to each other, perhaps even more so.
Mo Junhua's body temperature was frighteningly high, as if he might burst into flames any second, increasing the warmth of the quilt incrementally.
"Girl," Mo Junhua called out for help from the person beside him, his voice hoarse and trembling with repression.
