Tugging

Jiang Yang was a delicate flower Ye Tushen had personally nurtured, one taste of her and he was hooked. She grew arrogant with his favor, banking on her face bearing some resemblance to the woman he had always loved from afar. Ye Tushen hooked a finger under Jiang Yang’s chin and studied her closely. His voice was teasing. “You love me that much?” Enough to give up your self-respect? Jiang Yang’s fingertips brushed his face as she nestled against him, their cheeks and necks entwined. “Brother Shen, you’re like moonlight.” Only later did Ye Tushen learn she had meant her first love, who had died young.