Zhao Zun's movements were gentle yet firm, as if announcing something.
Han Lei's heartbeat involuntarily sped up, her cheeks growing ever redder. She gave up her brave struggle and merely leaned her head nervously against his chest, listening to the strong beating of his heart.
Zhao Zun's room was large, imbued with a scholarly aroma, and arranged in a cozy yet neat manner.
Some landscape paintings hung on the walls, the shelves were filled with various books, and a few pots of greenery lined the window ledge, creating a vibrant atmosphere.
But at this moment, Han Lei had no mood to appreciate these details. Because as soon as the door closed, the atmosphere in the room immediately turned ambiguous.
Zhao Zun set Han Lei down, and just as she was about to turn and escape, Zhao Zun raised both hands and pinned her tightly against the door.
