The painting is already signed.
The aura of ambiguity still lingers in the air.
Ouyang Xianyue's brush trembles slightly, her slender waist moving gently with it.
The two vigorous characters "Ouyang" on the rice paper have just dried, the essence flowing.
She slowly straightens up, the fabric making a slight rustling sound.
Under the covering of the cheongsam, her voluptuous body slowly rubs against his solid frame.
Tang Song's breath quickens, his exhale brushing past the strands of her temple hair.
The elegant scent on her, mixed with the fragrance of incense and ink, swirls between them.
Ouyang Xianyue seemingly unaware, just lowers her gaze, calmly observing the newly signed painting.
A moment later.
She subtly steps forward, cleverly widening the distance slightly.
She asks, "Does this work?"
Tang Song, however, does not let go, his hand still enveloping her warm, jade-like hand.
