This wasn't the first time Hua Jing had seen Fu Jing Rong bare-chested.
Back in the other world, when he was still Zhao Yan, she had seen plenty — but even so, the sight still made her pulse skip.
Droplets rolled slowly down from his damp hair, tracing the strong line of his neck, over his broad shoulders, and sliding perfectly along the ridges of his abs before disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed unconsciously.
With her phone now lying on the bed, Fu Jing Rong casually took a towel to his hair, ruffling it carelessly. His eyes held the faintest smirk as if savoring her reaction.
He stepped closer, voice teasing. "Done looking?"
Hua Jing immediately bent to grab her phone, her ears heating. "Who was looking? I wasn't looking!"
He chuckled, low and amused. "You were looking."
