Ji Qingwu wore a two-piece set with a wide-sleeved blouse, its hem tucked into her skirt.
Without a sash, the blouse hung loosely and wasn't form-fitting.
Emperor Wu Su asked, his face expressionless, "He touched you here?"
The moment he spoke, Ji Qingwu's stomach clenched.
Emperor Wu Su's hand had slipped under the hem of her blouse, his palm landing directly on her waist.
His calloused fingertips brushed against the most sensitive part of her waist.
Her skin felt delicate and smooth against his palm, even finer than the most polished jade. Emperor Wu Su's hand slid up her slender waist.
"Did he touch here, too?"
Seeing her pitiful state—lips parted, too shocked to react or even speak—he slid his hand even higher.
"Hmm?" Emperor Wu Su pressed, his voice low.
He seemed poised to continue all the way up if she didn't answer.
Ji Qingwu frantically shook her head. "No, he didn't."
"Didn't what?"
Emperor Wu Su asked casually, but his gaze was dangerously dark.
