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The afternoon went by quickly, and the sky had grown dark.

Qiao Xiaomai had chopped more than ten taels of pork belly, supplemented with glass noodles bought from Tong Sanlang at Jiji House, and cooked a large pot of stew.

The pork belly was tender and fragrant, and the glass noodles soaked up the meat’s flavour, matching their softness and fragrance. Everyone in the courtyard raved about the food.

Compared to the meal we had at noon, this was truly the work of a master chef! After dinner, it was completely dark.

Everyone returned home. In secret, Tong Sanlang took a knife and an oil lamp and left the courtyard with Qiao Xiaomai.

Once they were sure no one was following, they promptly changed direction and began climbing the mountain.

The night was moonless, and the wind blew strong.

It was very quiet.

Tong Sanlang, an adept, had footsteps as light as a cat’s, which made Qiao

Xiaomai’s footsteps seem rather heavy.

After quietly coughing twice, she opened her mouth and said, “Let’s do it here.” There was no one around anyway, so there was no need to go up the mountain. Tong Sanlang made a sound of agreement and took out the oil lamp and fire starter.

Once the oil lamp was lit, the small wick emitted a dim, yellow light that cast a subtle, indistinct glow on their faces.

A beauty in the lamp light becomes more beautiful the longer you look.

Moreover, Qiao Xiaomai was naturally beautiful. In this night air, the dim, yellow lamp light seemed to drape a gauze on her, and her peach blossom eyes looked as if they could speak, staring straight at him.

Looking into those eyes, he was dry-mouthed and tongue-tied in a blink.

There were many people present in the kitchen during the day, and his mind was also preoccupied with worries. Hence, he didn’t think much of it.

But now it was night, and it was just he and Qiao Xiaomai.

The two of them looking at each other across the oil lamp, the atmosphere inexplicably became intimate.

The more intense intimacy was yet to come.

Seeing that he had lit the oil lamp, Qiao Xiaomai immediately stretched out her hand towards him and asked, “Where’s the knife?”

He bent down and pulled out a small knife, one finger long, from his leg and handed it to Qiao Xiaomai.

Qiao Xiaomai took the knife, rolled up her sleeve, and made a cut on her left arm.

The cut she made was rather deep, and she immediately grimaced in pain.

“Take it easy, don’t push too hard,” Tong Sanlang spoke in a pained voice.

Blood quickly spread throughout her body.

“Are you okay?” After Tong Sanlang had sucked at the wound, he gently licked it a few times, then looked up at her.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Qiao Xiaomai’s breath hitched, after which she nodded quickly like a pecking chicken.

Tong Sanlang was taller than her by a head, but now he was hunched over, allowing her to look down on him.

At this moment, he was slightly tilting his head, his handsome face bathed in the hazy lamp light carried an air of curiosity, his calm, pitch-black pupils adorned with specks of light, shining brightly like the stars in the sky.

What a handsome young man!

His motions and voice were so gentle, staring at her with such tenderness.

The scene and the man were truly alluring.

Right now, there was a little deer in Tong Sanlang’s heart as well, hopping around chaotically and making his brain somewhat short-circuit, so he didn’t notice the marvel in Qiao Xiaomai’s eyes.

It seemed as if he wanted to seize the warm, soft touch of her arm, he licked his lips, unconsciously took a deep breath, then raised his own arm, “My turn..”