That night, Song Yansheng took charge of everything. He was enthusiastic, and Shi Nuan didn't resist much, though her awkwardness gave him the greatest encouragement.
This was the girl he loved, the girl he watched grow up, from his youthful years to now, nearly thirty, the girl he never forgot.
Shi Nuan's body was so soft it almost lost its support, or perhaps that support existed in the man named Song Yansheng.
From the doorway once, then after, they moved to the bed. He was even more passionate and intense. Her body was sensitive; she wanted to cry out but dared not.
In the dimness, all scents and sounds were ambiguous, while outside, the night was distinctly cool and thin.
A stark contrast.
When it ended again, Shi Nuan was too tired to move, her eyes fixedly staring at the dim ceiling.
Feeling the man's firm body and warmth, he didn't leave, his handsome face buried in her neck, breathing deeply.
