43 Drunk at a Brothel (1/2)

'Damn, child prostitution...'

That was Meng Fuyao's final thought before dropping to the area under the table.

Everything was spinning.

The dark red curtains were spinning, the ivory couches were spinning, the sparkly beaded curtains were spinning...

Even Yuan Zhaoxu's unreasonably beautiful face was spinning.

Meng Fuyao closed her eyes midway, attempting as hard as she could to grasp that spinning beauty amid a messy pile of items. Yet, her body was as soft as cotton, and she was unable to catch it. She muttered between sighs, ”Darn... not again...”

Sleeves ruffled the next moment, followed by a whiff of faint fragrance as if someone had sat down beside her. ”Not again..?” a low, gentle voice sounded.

A fair, slightly cool, finger reached forward to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. She then felt a warm, scented towel hugging her face, its temperature perfect. The sweat that had gathered on her forehead was wiped off, leaving a tingly sensation on her skin when the midnight breeze blew in. She could almost feel her pores opening up to embrace it. She let out a satisfying sigh, fondly grabbing onto the hand that was about to leave her face and rubbing it against her own hand, mumbling, ”...I can't have what I want...”

”What do you want?” the voice floated dreamily within her head, causing her to sink further into ecstasy.

”I want...” Meng Fuyao murmured softly, her words unclear from thirst. They were so slurred that the person beside her had to lean forward and closer to her lips.

What he hadn't expected was for Meng Fuyao to whip her head around, accurately landing her tender red lips right onto his.

Their lips brushed lightly and unintentionally, but it felt as though an electric arc had risen from the horizon and exited the reign of time and space, arriving deep within their bodies and sending shockwaves right through their rippling hearts.

It felt so soft yet agitating, so still yet stormy.

For a moment Yuan Zhaoxu turned stiff, but he gradually loosened up and smiled. He extended a finger to caress Meng Fuyao's smooth and hot face, moving it along her beautiful brows, eyes, nose, lips...

Meng Fuyao unconsciously mumbled throughout his touch, still basking in the warmth and joy his lips had brought her. Yuan Zhaoxu's light strokes tickled her, evoking a bout of giggles. She clasped both arms around his neck, and his soft lips zoomed steadily into sight. She pulled him in and bit on them.

She did not stop there. With her eyes closed, she went on to pinch his cheek, pulling it back and forth, mumbling, ”Why do you always win..? Not fun. Can you lose at something?”

From being bitten to being pulled, Yuan Zhaoxu had fallen into a state of confusion and fascination. He raised a finger up to the corner of his mouth, its fairness enhanced by the blooming red color of his lips. In spite of them being slightly swollen, he half-smiled while observing the drunken girl in front of him. ”Yes.”

”Wha...what?”

Yuan Zhaoxu's smile deepened without answering. He held her hand down before covering her with a quilt. He opened his mouth after a long while, his gaze lingering on her face.

The moon outside the window looked at this moment like a gentle plum flower, and it was coupled with the babbling stream flowing from the rockery and into the jade-clear waters. The moon's reflection, visible through the ripples, resembled that of a beautiful young girl.

The night was quiet and peaceful.

Yuan Zhaoxu's voice was low and cushy, no different from the occasional and gentle breeze that passed through the window slits.

”This answer... you'll get to it one day.”

Meng Fuyao knew not where the breeze came from, but she was swaying along with it... there seemed to be an ancient temple located on top of a faraway mountain, but it vanished as soon as it appeared... her body was limp, and she got to see a beautifully woven mattress... it was misty... she was underwater...

An aged hand reached out... low voice and pitiful sighs... she caught a glimpse of purple light seeping into a dusky, remote space... fear took over her, extreme fear... a blade ray struck, exploding in brightness, and mild features of a face could be seen amid it... drifting the next moment... like a dandelion being blown across the highest of mountains... landing on her face, tickling her ever so lightly.

'Tickles...'

Meng Fuyao raised a finger to brush the itchy spot ––– 'Ah, why so ticklish?'

She opened her eyes slowly and was greeted by a big white fluff.

It was a bum rubbing against her cheek, accompanied by a short fluffy tail that shook incessantly, brushing across every inch of her face.

Meng Fuyao lazily pushed it aside, cursing hazily, ”Don't leave any hair on my face.”

Then, she closed her eyes for a while more but got increasingly doubtful. Would Yuan Bao care about her enough to wake her up?

She then felt something sticky on her face, and it did not smell pleasant. She swiped a finger across it, and a dubious, slightly yellowish substance became visible on her fingertip.

”What is this?” asked Meng Fuyao with half-opened eyes.