"The Chest-Smashing Rock’s twenty-eighth tour starts now! Folks with money, show so love with your purse; those without, show so love with your presence."
Chest-Smashing Rock?
And a twenty-eighth tour?
Wen Qiao was startled and turned around, just in ti to see a burly man swinging a huge hamr directly at her chest.
"Stop!"
With Wen Qiao’s shout, she suddenly opened her eyes and woke from her dream.
It might have been her gaze he felt because the hand moved a little.
Wen Qiao felt a rush of heat to her forehead. Before she had ti to act, she heard Fu Jinghen’s mumbling voice, "You’re awake..."
The man’s voice was uniquely husky and vague in the early morning, and when he humd by her ear, the seductive power was simply off the charts.
But at this mont, Wen Qiao was in no mood to appreciate this early morning treat. Her body reacted faster than her brain, and by the ti she realized what was happening, her palm had already connected with Fu Jinghen’s face, accompanied by a crisp "slap."
The sound echoed exceptionally clear in the empty room and was even sowhat pleasing to the ear.
That is, if one were to ignore the recipient’s darkened face.
Fu Jinghen had been tornted by Wen Qiao for most of the night, only falling asleep in the latter half.
Inhaling Wen Qiao’s faint rose scent and holding her soft body in his arms, Fu Jinghen had fallen into an exceptionally deep sleep.
But as soon as Wen Qiao stirred, he woke up, although not completely. Well, now, her slap had sent any remaining drowsiness flying away.
Fu Jinghen was sowhat incredulous, "Why did you hit ?"
Wen Qiao’s raised hand was frozen in mid-air, her brain not quite catching up for a mont. After a brief blank pause, a whirlwind of emotions flooded through her.
Shock, guilt—yet upon seeing the imprint of the slap erging on Fu Jinghen’s face, all these feelings transford into a deep sense of heartache.
She looked at her hand and then at Fu Jinghen, stamring out, "I, you, that slap wasn’t intentional."
Fu Jinghen watched her scrunched up little face, a sudden feeling of helpless resignation welling in him.
He had been slapped unexpectedly while still half-awake, but instead of thinking about the slap, his first thought was to comfort her.
He pressed down on Wen Qiao’s arm still hanging mid-air, "Put your hand down first, I’m afraid you might slap again in a mont."
Wen Qiao whined pitifully twice and snuggled into Fu Jinghen’s embrace of her own accord, "I didn’t an to hit you, it was just a reflex."
Fu Jinghen’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his hand continuously stroking Wen Qiao’s hair, "A reflex to what? I’m not soone who sneaked into your room in the middle of the night."
"Then who allowed you to take advantage of while I was asleep? If I wake up in the morning and see a salty pig hand on my chest, shouldn’t I defend myself?"
At that ti, Wen Qiao had also just woken up from sleep, still groggy, truly not realizing that the hand was Fu Jinghen’s.
But even if she had realized it was Fu Jinghen’s hand, was she supposed to just ignore it?
No! Way!
This darned man had said just yesterday that he wouldn’t do anything to her!
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