The incense continued to unfurl its slender, winding ribbons through the moonlit chamber, the pale smoke clinging to the dark sandalwood panels like silver silk.
The air remained dense with the heavy, cloying scent of night-blooming lotus and crushed winter jasmine, yet beneath that fragrant mask, the ambient spiritual pressure of the room had warped entirely.
Su Xishi did not pull away. She remained perched upon Haoran's lap, her slender thighs bracketing his waist, her arms resting across his broad shoulders with the easy, dangerous grace of a playful fox that knew it was playing with a beast.
Her eyes locked onto his chiseled face. The warm, firm touch of his fingers still lingered along the elegant line of her jaw, sending microscopic, electrifying shivers through her meridians.
Yet, despite the intoxicating heat blooming against her chest, her expression never lost the clarity she always had.
