Why does it feel like an affair?
Zhao Rong slightly frowned, resisting the urge to look at her graceful figure, and covered his mouth, preparing to cough before speaking.
However, Lady Du Guxi suddenly said, "First, help wipe my hair."
She flung the towel in her hand backward, a ribbon interwoven among it.
Zhao Rong subconsciously caught it and hesitated:
"This... isn’t quite appropriate, is it?"
"???"
Lady Du Guxi’s body shuddered violently and tumbled off the Beauty Couch.
The Beauty Couch had toppled over.
Zhao Rong stepped forward to help her up.
————
PS: Brothers, happy Qixi, refresh in one hour...
————
At this mont within the pavilion, apart from a small stone table placed in the center with snacks and fruit, there was also a purple sandalwood Beauty Couch, luxurious and antique. What attracted Zhao Rong’s attention even more was the enchanting silhouette of a woman, reclined on the Beauty Couch.
The woman was wearing only a thin, snow-white gauze dress. Her sculptured beautiful back faced Zhao Rong, her long, black hair that reached her waist damp, gathered and twisted in front of her left shoulder.
She was leaning her head to the side, her delicate hand holding an exquisitely embroidered towel, gently rubbing her damp hair.
On the Beauty Couch, there was a seductive scene of a peerless beauty lazily wiping her hair after a bath.
Zhao Rong recognized the woman at a glance.
He had seen this extrely charming back view of hers at the mourning hall of the Emperor of Great Li, and it had left a deep impression on him.
Now, she was no longer dressed in mourning clothes but in a snow-white robe that was vaguely translucent...
Zhao Rong thought to himself that this was not good.
Although he was here to find her... damn it, why would she take a bath at high noon? Wasn’t this putting in a compromising position? Moreover, with not a soul in sight in her entire palace, could it be... a particular fetish, or is she planning to secretly do sothing?
Although Zhao Rong’s mind was slightly in a panic and he couldn’t help but crazily criticize, he still quickly averted his gaze as soon as he assessed the situation and silently stepped back.
One should not watch impropriety.
The young Confucian Scholar mouthed silently, moving lightly, and slowly turned his body away.
"You’ve arrived?"
A voice as crisp as a silver bell and pleasant to the ear broke the silence of the garden.
It was Lady Du Guxi’s voice, but compared to her usual tone in formal settings, the ending was prolonged.
Less dignified and solemn, more soft and languorous. At this mont within the pavilion, apart from a small stone table placed in the center with snacks and fruit, there was also a purple sandalwood Beauty Couch, luxurious and antique. What attracted Zhao Rong’s attention even more was the enchanting silhouette of a woman, reclined on the Beauty Couch.
The woman was wearing only a thin, snow-white gauze dress. Her sculptured beautiful back faced Zhao Rong, her long, black hair that reached her waist damp, gathered and twisted in front of her left shoulder.
She was leaning her head to the side, her delicate hand holding an exquisitely embroidered towel, gently rubbing her damp hair.
On the Beauty Couch, there was a seductive scene of a peerless beauty lazily wiping her hair after a bath.
Zhao Rong recognized the woman at a glance.
He had seen this extrely charming back view of hers at the mourning hall of the Emperor of Great Li, and it had left a deep impression on him.
Now, she was no longer dressed in mourning clothes but in a snow-white robe that was vaguely translucent...
Zhao Rong thought to himself that this was not good.
Although he was here to find her... damn it, why would she take a bath at high noon? Wasn’t this putting in a compromising position? Moreover, with not a soul in sight in her entire palace, could it be... a particular fetish, or is she planning to secretly do sothing?
Although Zhao Rong’s mind was slightly in a panic and he couldn’t help but crazily criticize, he still quickly averted his gaze as soon as he assessed the situation and silently stepped back.
One should not watch impropriety.
The young Confucian Scholar mouthed silently, moving lightly, and slowly turned his body away.
"You’ve arrived?"
A voice as crisp as a silver bell and pleasant to the ear broke the silence of the garden.
It was Lady Du Guxi’s voice, but compared to her usual tone in formal settings, the ending was prolonged.
Less dignified and solemn, more soft and languorous.
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