By the time it ended, Qiu Zhixuan was completely drained of energy.
Lying limply on the bed, his arm draped around her waist, she was facing away from him, gasping with a flushed face.
Behind her, Feng Chengjin seemed exhausted too, holding her tightly in his arms. Despite just releasing something, the rest of his body hadn't completely retreated, and rationality had returned from a brief one- or two-minute rest.
Leaning closer, he lightly pecked her snow-white shoulder with his lips, seemingly stirred by her shoulder-length strands of hair.
After pausing for a moment, he picked up a lock, looked at it, and sighed helplessly, "Your hair…"
Qiu Zhixuan paused, recalling that he used to seem to like touching her slightly curled long hair. If her memory served correctly, he once called the French designer and, while reporting her measurements, she remembered he also said, "She has long, deep chestnut-colored curls. Hmm, design it according to the long hair style."
