Upstairs.
Nangong Qingcheng returned to her room, her mood still not settled.
She closed the door, leaned against the door panel, her soft chest heaving dramatically, creating waves of allure. If Jiang Feng saw this scene, that wicked fire would surely burn even fiercer.
Her legs trembling slightly, Nangong Qingcheng kicked off her slippers and stood barefoot on the cold floor, covering her flushed cheeks, and slid down the door panel to sit.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on them.
Though her little mouth was still muttering curses at Jiang Feng, calling him a rascal.
Yet in her mind, she couldn't stop recalling that moment on the sofa, the scene of enchantment and intimacy with Jiang Feng to the extreme...
Although she was confused by Jiang Feng's tactics at the time, deep inside, wasn't that a true reflection of her feelings, subconsciously wanting to get closer to Jiang Feng...
