Chinese wealthy family, my billionaire mother-in-law

"Assistant Yu said you were coming, so I went to take a shower and change clothes." Even though he endured it again and again, his voice was still as if it had been ground with gravel, a little hoarse.

This familiar voice stirred the air, causing ripples on her body.

She still secretly pinched the palm of her hand with her nails, and the pain came like waking up from a dream. She tugged on the clothes that had fallen off her shoulders to cover her slightly hot skin, and tried to get up from the man's arms, but was pushed back by the hand on her back.

"Let me hold you for a while. If you leave, I won't be able to hold you."

The voice of deliberate forbearance came from top to bottom. She was really afraid that her sanity would be shattered by him and all her previous efforts would be wasted.

Gently struggling with Fu Haitang's wrist, he murmured: "Let go, you can't do this."

He didn't let go, and tightened again:

"If you don't let go, you can slap me again before I finish hugging you."

Hearing these words, Song Weiyu suddenly stopped struggling. Her chest rose and fell slightly but she closed her eyes tightly. She was afraid that her unsatisfactory tears would pour out and bore into the man's chest instead of her.

Outside the window is the warm sunshine of early winter, not warm but gentle.

They shine lazily on every pedestrian who is about to be overwhelmed by life, as if to say: Don't worry, walk slower, there will be moonlight when the sun goes down, and there will always be someone to light the way for you.

Beside the floor-to-ceiling window, Fu Haitang held her back, his clean and slender hands carefully caressing her, comforting the heartbeat of the person in his arms that he thought was well hidden.

No one spoke, and time rarely slowed down.

Fu Haitang looked at the head buried in his chest, his eyes softer than the warm sunshine outside the window.

In fact, the shirt on his chest had long been wet, but the person in his arms still stubbornly believed that she could hide her tears by closing her eyes tightly.

Not only could he not hide his tears, but Fu Haitang had known her better than himself for so many years. At this moment, Fu Haitang knew very clearly: She was actually somewhat reluctant to let go of herself.

Otherwise, she would have pushed him away long ago and why would she be hiding in his arms and crying?

She just couldn't bear it, right?

The soaked shirt clung to his empty chest, and the heart fragments that had been stepped on by her and crushed by her, regardless of the owner's wishes, greedily sucked in the woman's tears and tried to fill his chest. Dry up and try to burst into life again.

Song Weiyu was shaken weak by his frantic heartbeat, and she straightened up slightly and moved away. She didn't look up at him, but stared at the tears on his chest. The white-gray shirt turned into dark gray because of her.

Because she got deeper than just this part.

She stretched out her hand and gently rolled up his shirt sleeves. On her strong forearms, two rows of tooth marks with bloody scabs stood out.

The wound had not been treated and was healing naturally, but it was extremely red and swollen.

If left untreated, scars will remain.

"Why don't you apply medicine? It's already infected." She raised her hand to touch it, but her fingers stopped on it and still didn't come down.

Fu Haitang glanced at the bite mark, and then looked at her slightly sideways. This angle was very good, and he could see the corners of her eyes that were red from crying just now, and the two strands of hair on her forehead that were soaked with tears.

"Because I want it to get infected," he said.

Song Weiyu's eyelashes trembled, as if there was a lump in his throat.

With an almost invisible smile, Fu Haitang reached out to tuck the hair hanging down by her ears. With the two wet strands of hair, he tucked them behind her ears.

Then he said: "If you are infected, you will never recover, so you can stay."

"Isn't it good to stay?"

There was a mixture of sadness and joy in his eyes. He didn't know what he was talking about, but he hoped that the other party could understand.

After speaking, even the air was silent.

Song Weiyu tried her best to suppress her tears, but something seemed to choke her throat. She swallowed hard and realized that what was blocked was her heart that desperately wanted to answer on her behalf.

Without speaking, his eyes became more and more distracted, and he bit his lower lip as if he was really thinking about something.

Looking at her red lips, Fu Haitang swallowed, his Adam's apple rolling slightly, he stretched out his hand to gently loosen her masochistic lips, and leaned closer.

In the sudden close distance, the two people exchanged hot breaths and their eyes intertwined with each other.

His eyes gradually became obscure and incomprehensible, as if he wanted to lure her into his eyes. He resisted the urge to kiss her, looked at her lips metaphorically, and locked her eyes tightly.

Approaching again.

The distance becomes a desire to touch or not to touch, a pull to kiss or not to kiss.

Every breath stirred up the other person's body temperature. She panicked and tried to hide away but her head went blank.

Fu Haitang lowered her eyes, the hot light fell on her slightly parted lips, and said hoarsely:

"Song Weiyu, I'll give you a chance to regret it."

……