Under a wide, solid wood table, Ning Xuan held Yun Han down on her lap. The table was elegantly designed, its top crafted from a single slab of precious golden silkwood. Natural wood grain was streaked with golden threads, and its edges were carved with intricate patterns, every curve flowing with an artistic grace.
Its four sturdy legs were carved with coiling dragons, and a modesty panel ran between them. Yun Han was currently crouched in the space between this panel and Ning Xuan's legs.
Yun Han was kneeling over Ning Xuan's lap. The hand she had on his head pressed down firmly, forcing his cheek against her thigh. This made his breathing ragged. He could clearly smell her perfume and the faint scent of her pheromones, making his heart race. Though the space under the table was large, it now felt exceptionally cramped, as if the very air was growing thin.
