The little Bowl in the room instantly became flustered. "He's here."
She hurriedly took a quick look in the bronze mirror on the table, didn't really see clearly, and rushed to open the door.
The moment the door opened, Liu Lang strode in.
Little Bowl's heart was pounding. She bolted the door, then clutched the sash of her clothes and stood by the door without moving.
Liu Lang turned his head and saw Little Bowl under the candlelight, head half lowered. She lifted her eyes ever so slightly; her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheeks.
The shy look of the young girl struck Liu Lang straight to the heart.
He was at the age when his blood ran hot, and he'd been cooped up in the barracks for almost a month. At this moment he couldn't hold back anymore; he strode over, grabbed Little Bowl, and laid her down on the bed.
Little Bowl gave a soft cry and squeezed her eyes shut. Then she only felt a coolness across her chest, and a burning-hot body pressed down over her.
