"King, this mark..."
"I told you to shut up! Just brush my tail!"
Lang Xuan turned his back on Ji Xiaosong, and with unerring accuracy, tossed the comb right into her hands.
Ji Xiaosong was at a loss for words. 'What a proud, difficult man,' she thought. 'I have no idea what goes on in that head of his.'
Billowing steam swirled under the moonlight. Lang Xuan's silver-white tail soaked in the Spiritual Spring, looking like a bolt of moonlit satin unfurling in the water.
Ji Xiaosong knelt on a flagstone. As the teeth of the wooden comb sank into the fluffy fur, she distinctly felt the muscles under her palm tense abruptly.
"Don't touch the base..."
Lang Xuan's voice was muffled by his folded arms, and the tips of his ears, poking out above the water, were so red they looked ready to bleed.
His face was completely buried in his folded arms. Droplets of water trickled down his taut back muscles, catching the moonlight with a honey-colored sheen.
