After washing her hands and standing up, Yang Qinglan regained her usual composure, but her lips lifted in a slight smile and her eyes shone clear and bright as autumn water upon seeing Li Changzhou.
Her snow-white complexion was tinged with a faint blush, as tender as the peach blossoms of May.
"Don't look." She covered Li Changzhou's eyes with her hand.
"Let me see if there's still a smell," Li Changzhou teased, taking her hand.
"Smelly death for you." Yang Qinglan promptly covered his mouth and nose with her hand.
Li Changzhou's eyes peeked out, watching her gently and happily as he chuckled, "Does this count as foul language?"
Yang Qinglan tilted her head slightly, her voice low and slightly husky as she chuckled, "It doesn't count when I'm swearing at you."
Li Changzhou laughed and took her into his arms, and Yang Qinglan also laughed and pressed herself into his embrace.
