"Who painted this? I'll have his head chopped off."
She quickly closed the book, tossed it aside in a panic, and turned to glare at Yun Wanye, both bashful and enraged.
He hadn't lied to her; it indeed wasn't a book but a vividly detailed erotic painting.
On the white rice paper, a stunningly beautiful young man and woman lay entangled, their clothes half-open, the scene tantalizing and seductive, making her blush and her heart race at just one glance.
What made her even more ashamed and annoyed was that the two protagonists in the painting were him and her.
How lifelike was the painting?
So lifelike that even her subtle expressions of passion, and the infatuation in her eyes when she looked at him, were clearly depicted.
"My head is quite useful, and also good-looking. It can please the Princess and serve the country in times of need. Can we perhaps spare it?"
He reached out and pinched her soft cheeks, lazily speaking.
Mo Zhaozhao: "..."
"You drew this?"
