Forcefully Kissing His Arch-Rival, the Cold-Blooded Chief Assistant, He Lost Control!

"Kiss me! That's the best pure Yang energy in the world. One sip is enough!" The system in his brain was screaming like crazy. In order to survive, Song Zhiyin threw Shen Lingshen, the chief minister of the dynasty, who abided by restraint and etiquette, and was as cold as snow, in front of everyone, and kissed her jade-like lips twice. Shen Lingshen's eyes were cold and piercing, the beads between his fingers trembled, and he gritted his teeth and scolded her: "What a shame!" But no one knew that every night, the ascetic chief minister would fall into absurd dreams. In the dream, Song Zhiyin was slender, with ice-cold muscles and jade bones, and his rough palms pinched Chu Gong's waist. He was sinking crazily in the quagmire of dreams, watching the wet flush at the end of her eyes, softening into a puddle of spring water in his arms. He thought that she was so pleased with her brother-in-law that she could only dip the wolf hair in cinnabar in the study and use the fragrance of ink to suppress the possessive desire that was almost out of the ground. Until the truth came out, the so-called "elopement" was actually a farce. That night, it surged. Shen Ling's deep tiger's mouth clamped down on the delicate back of her neck like an iron plier, and his hot and heavy breath sprayed on the hollow of her neck. His voice was hoarse: "Wasn't it very majestic before? You provoked the truth, huh?"