Chapter 23: Frail Body

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Chapter 23: Frail Body

“…Is that all right?”

Song Qie clasped her hands behind her back, trying to hold down the hem of her skirt. She felt Lu Beihuai’s gaze on her, one that seemed to devour her alive, making her uneasy as she stood there.

The floor of the bedroom was made of old green floral tiles, darkened with age. Song Qie’s bare feet, delicate and pale, rubbed against each other on the worn surface.

The soles of her feet must be dirty.

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” Lu Beihuai stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door closing echoed in Song Qie's ears, resonating like a foreboding announcement of what was to come.

As Lu Beihuai approached, the memories of the previous night flooded back to Song Qie. He instinctively stepped back but miscalculated, hitting the edge of the bed and falling onto it, causing the hem of his skirt to flare open.

Fortunately, his hands were behind his back, preventing him from falling into a more compromising position.

Unbeknownst to him, the sight of him slumped over the dark sheets—his slender, milky-white arms supporting him, thin shoulders accentuating the curve of his collarbone, and long, beautiful legs beneath the skirt—would become the stuff of fantasies and reality for days and nights to come.

“...I’m sorry,” Song Qie whispered, preparing to sit up when he saw Lu Beihuai draw closer.

In an instant, his body froze.

Lu Beihuai bent down, casually kneeling on one knee. He grasped Song Qie’s slender ankle, placing it on his knee, and looked up at him. “If you don’t wear shoes, your feet will definitely get dirty.”

After saying this, he opened the bedside table, retrieved a wet tissue, and began to wipe the sole of Song Qie's foot resting on his knee.

Every detail, even the spaces between his toes, was meticulously examined.

The feeling of Lu Beihuai's slightly rough palm on Song Qie’s feet sent tingles through him. The gentle pressure made him feel ticklish, and he instinctively tried to pull away. But Lu Beihuai held him firmly. “...It’s so itchy.”

“Even if it itches, you have to clean them. Who told you not to wear shoes?”

Lu Beihuai’s large hand grasped Song Qie’s foot firmly, refusing to let go, no matter how much he squirmed from the tickling sensation.

Though originally anxious and afraid, Song Qie couldn’t help but laugh as he fell against the edge of the bed, laughter bubbling up until tears streamed down his cheeks. He desperately wanted to pull his feet back, but Lu Beihuai’s grip was relentless.

Laughter has a way of warming the soul.

The young man leaned against the bed, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow. His long legs dangled off the side, the laughter pulling at his suspenders, causing one of the thin white straps to slide down his shoulder. As he laughed, the fabric of his dress loosened, revealing more of his delicate frame, though he remained blissfully unaware.

The fabric of the skirt brushed against his skin, revealing glimpses of the white edges underneath, as if it longed to escape Lu Beihuai’s hold.

“...Is it okay? It’s so itchy.” Song Qie rested his head on his arms, panting from laughter, feeling both hot and flustered.

Lu Beihuai’s eyes seemed to burn with intensity. He finally released Song Qie’s foot, lowered his head to toss the used tissue into the trash, and turned to leave the bedroom.

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