At this moment, Xiao Jihan's gaze fell on Su Muyao, his cold eyes softened by the candlelight, filled with undisguisable affection, as if filled with endless tenderness.
His fingers rest on her waist; that night, he had come to know her extremely well, knowing which parts of her were most sensitive.
He lowered his voice, husky, with a hint of pleading, "May I serve my wife?"
His voice was naturally pleasing, and when he spoke this sentence, it carried a gentle allure, making Su Muyao's heart suddenly tighten.
Unlike his usual tone, he had never spoken such words before.
It was truly embarrassing.
Xiao Jihan's gaze continuously focused on Su Muyao's face, not missing a single expression. As he saw her clear and lovely face tinged with blush and looking up at him, her eyes were shimmering, seemingly filled with infinite tenderness.
