He never knew a woman's lips could be so sweet. It was the tenderest heart of a May rose, the first sip of honey gathered by a bee, the first sliver of a crescent moon at dusk, the first taste of an intoxicating dream...
There was no wind, yet his robes fluttered. He had drunk no wine, yet he was intoxicated. A mere kiss, and he was already smitten.
When she was on the verge of suffocation, he let her go.
At that moment, he gazed at her—like a connoisseur of jewels seeing the most brilliant diamond. It was natural, unpolished, yet so exceptionally fine it needed no such refinement. Emerging from the earth as it was, it was already magnificent, already perfect.
Especially when his large hand brushed her soft, black hair. The sunlight streaming through the window touched her face, revealing fine, downy hairs on her cheeks and forehead. She was as fresh and pure as an orchid blooming in the depths of a secluded valley.
