He closed the window, walked to the bedside, and lifted the curtain. On the brocade bedding lay a naked young girl, curled up in a ball, her thick eyelashes trembling slightly, her long hair draped over the pillow, and her skin as white as jade.
Xiao Man.
He uttered the name silently. It was as if just saying it once would give him more courage. He envied her, was jealous of her, and loved her. He wanted to trap her in his own hands, yet he also wanted to escape far away, never to get close, never to get close.
Kill her, kill her, so she won't escape like the wind from his sleeves and leave him far behind.
As if bewitched, he sat down by the bedside, his long, slender fingers slowly tracing down her delicate back.
She breathed sweetly, lost in a pleasant dream, a smile playing on her lips. His fingertips traced back along the slightly protruding sections of her spine, stopping at her shoulder, fingers spread wide.
I want to hold her tight, or I want to just kill her.
He held her delicate neck, caressing her tenderly, his eyes gazing at her greedily, as if the whole world were about to die, his time running out, wondering how he could love her properly, and which part of her he could kiss without regret.
His hands gradually tightened, and he picked her up, pulling her back against his chest.
My fingers traced along her smooth, full forehead to the tip of her delicate nose, and stopped at her soft lips.
He lowered his head and kissed the tender, fragrant flesh, then quickly withdrew.
His expression was incredibly complex, a mixture of ruthlessness, ferocity, tenderness, and affection flashing across his face. Should he kill her, or kill himself? He tightened his arms around her, wishing he could meld her into his body. A seductive vine seemed to sprout from the depths of his heart, entwining around her, and he couldn't resist kissing her cheek.
Xiao Man.
He turned to look out the window, where the shadows of snowflakes flickered and were impossible to discern.
It's almost dawn.