Li Yelai's palm brushed over the purple-black lines, and under his absolute dominion, the divine poison was crushed and scattered inch by inch, melting away like ice and snow.
This forced his palm to remain pressed against her skin, starting from the injured shoulder, meticulously exploring downward to disperse the toxin.
Beneath his hand was her smooth, icy skin, rendered fragile by the poison's invasion.
His knuckles inevitably slid over her delicate collarbone hollow, feeling the sharp contours of the bone.
As the area cleared of poison expanded, the edges of his palm—even the entire base—could distinctly sense the soft and full undulating curves, gently caressing along the smooth, restrained arc of her waist.
Each touch drew a faint moan from the girl in her dazed state, her cheeks tinged with blush.
Is this really still the Little Mad King? The one who gave no heed to propriety between men and women, calling herself a "busybody"—is this still her?
