Night.

He just left from Lu Muqing's house.

The late autumn wind blew the impatient snowflakes, which made him a little frozen.

The snow did not stop, it fell lightly, and it did not accumulate too much snow for a day and a night, and it turned into dew and moistened the stone path.

Follow the east street and walk forward, about three hundred and twenty-three steps.

He counted.

The steps are about the same every time you count.

Tonight, he was counting, and as he counted, he felt warm in his heart.

Only then did he realize that he was always immersed in the past depression, and he forgot to realize that he was originally lonely and helpless, but he also had a familiar corner.

The stone floor was a little slippery, and it took him three hundred and thirty-three steps before he could see the delicate and small attic.

When the waitresses saw him return, they all ran up to him with ecstasy, and yesterday's sorrow was swept away.

He nodded slightly, and the two of them put their arms around his shoulders.

After a few steps around the front porch, there is the living room.

At night, it is inevitable that the room will be lit with a candle and quietly reveal the light.

Where there is light, there will be no less shadow.

So there was a shadow quietly branded on the paper window, not to see the appearance clearly, as if it was obediently shrunk into a ball, leaning on the round table of the tea table.

The light is a shadow, as if it is extremely moving.

It was Ling Xiang, of course he knew.

He couldn't help but wonder what Ling Xiang was doing in the house.

When you can't help it, there will inevitably be conjectures.

He guessed it was weaving and embroidery. Winter is coming, and Ling Xiang has been muttering about knitting a scarf for him.

It's just that the shadow has never floated, not like it is holding a needle and thread and intertwining.

So he couldn't help but guess that Ling Xiang was reading a little book by picking up the lamp. Even if he has been in the rivers and lakes, after all, he is also a woman, and there are a lot of lingering sympathies in the world, in the past, when he didn't want to speak, Ling Xiang would obediently hold the little book, sit on the small bench, and not come to disturb.

Suddenly, there was a hot heat in his chest.

Since when did he have such careful thoughts!

Now he just wanted to see Ling Xiang quickly.

Even if the two were just a door apart, he was anxious.

He told the waitress to put herself down, then quickly shoved the door open.

Ling Xiang under the firelight didn't react, leaning on the table with one hand, holding up her forehead with her palm, she was actually napping, otherwise she wouldn't let the hair on her forehead fall down in a mess.

He crept closer and hugged the pretty woman from behind.

The skin-to-skin contact instantly made his heart ripple.

Ling Xiang opened her sleepy eyes in confusion and blinked a few times before she could see clearly that it was him.

Yingying's red lips wanted to speak, but before he could do it, he had already sealed it.

Lips and teeth rubbed against each other, Ling Xiang's face suddenly flushed crimson, a wet kiss was so thrilling.

The two kissed for a long time before they separated.

Ling Xiang clearly didn't drink, but her eyes seemed to be drunk.

He was also panting, looking at the woman in front of him with vicious eyes, as if he had stripped her naked.

Ling Xiang was the first to reach out and touch his body.

He didn't return for a day and a night, so he waited for him for a day and a night, and now the worry in his heart has long turned into infinite tenderness.

He also made a move, caressing from his slender waist to his buttocks, spreading his five slender fingers and rubbing them vigorously.

Ling Xiang was pinched and screamed, and her whole body was out of strength, and she just wanted to fall on his body, and her little green hand touched down his neck.

Touching his chest, he had to cry out in pain.

Ling Xiang, who was distracted, discovered the terrifying wound on his chest, and his face immediately opened with sadness.

But he wrapped the person in his arms, tighter, and his mouth bit the woman's temples and ears.

After all, the woman couldn't help it, and only thought about groping between his legs.

His lust was great, and while feeling the tenderness of his hands, he lifted the woman up, walked through a few big steps, and then threw the graceful body into the bed.

At the deepest end of the night, the snow stops.