Qin Shuang's heart trembled.
He Zhiyao's warm kiss grazed past her earlobe, falling bit by bit onto her neck.
His fingertips also slid under her hem, pressing against her waist.
His fingertips were somewhat cold, but Qin Shuang felt as if she had been burned and abruptly woke up.
She pushed He Zhiyao away and jumped off the bed in panic.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and explained word by word, "I meant for you to leave my room, not to throw you out."
Leaning against her bedpost, He Zhiyao adopted an innocent look, "I have a headache."
Qin Shuang: ...
He Zhiyao was indeed the same old He Zhiyao who was never satisfied with what he had.
Hmph.
She really shouldn't have indulged him; give him an inch, and he'd want a mile.
"Do you want to stay?" Qin Shuang asked.
He Zhiyao silently watched her, his meaning clear without words.
Qin Shuang: "This is my room, your room is out the door to the right."
He Zhiyao simply closed his eyes and feigned death.