A whirlwind marriage with a high-ranking official: Lights out, don't force me to take the initi

He had just unfolded the thing when the bathroom door clicked open.

Wang Hao hurriedly stuffed the things under his pillow, turned around, and straightened his back.

Ding Jiahe stood at the door, drying her wet hair.

She saw Wang Hao standing by the bed, looking guilty, and stopped in her tracks.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked softly.

"N-nothing!" Wang Hao waved his hand, his ears turning red. "Just tidying up the bed."

"Go wash up, I've boiled water again for you," Ding Jiahe said.

"Okay." Wang Hao nodded, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and took it off from the bottom up, revealing his strong upper body and well-defined waistline.

He bent down and took off his trousers, leaving him only in shorts.

Ding Jiahe's cheeks flushed from the shock of the scene, and she turned slightly away, too embarrassed to look any further.

Wang Hao secretly smiled, revealing his little tiger tooth.

As I walked past her, my chest brushed against her shoulder, intentionally or unintentionally.

The moment their scalding skin touched, Ding Jiahe's heart pounded wildly against her chest.

Ding Jiahe stood in the room for a while, looked around, tiptoed to the bathroom door, rubbed the door with her fingers to make sure it was closed.

She went back to the wardrobe, pulled out a cloth bag from the bottom, and inside that bag was another bag.

"What is this? Why is it wrapped in several layers?" she asked, fiddling with the bag, recalling Ye Wenxi's instructions to her.

"This is a little personal gift for you; wear it on your wedding night."

Upon opening it, all that could be seen inside was a piece of 'rag'.

"What is that? Shredded cloth?"

Ding Jiahe was still wondering what this thing was, but the moment she picked up the clothes, her eyes widened in surprise.

It was an outfit...that she had never seen before.

The fabric was as thin as a cicada's wing, bright red, like a little skirt, but there was almost no fabric in the back, only two thin ropes tied at the waist.

The front did cover her chest, but the fabric was so sheer that you could clearly see her fingers if you put them behind her back.

The whole garment feels so light in your hand that you can barely feel its weight.

There was also a small note inside, written in Ye Wenxi's handwriting: "Wishing you sexual happiness~"

Ding Jiahe buried her face in the bed, clutching the paper tightly in her hand.

She rolled over, staring at the ceiling above her head, panting, her gaze darting back and forth between the piece of cloth and the strip of paper.

No wonder there are so many rumors about the health center... What exactly does Ye Wenxi wear every night?

She turned her head to look at the bathroom, where the sound of running water could be heard.

My heart was pounding like a drum; I don't think I've ever struggled this much in my life.

"I'll give it my all!" she squeezed out through gritted teeth.

Ding Jiahe gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, took off her clothes, and put on the other clothes.

For Wang Hao.

She wanted to prepare a wedding night that he would never forget.

Ding Jiahe got up and took out the perfume that Wang Hao had given her from the dressing table.

The perfume had a faint rose scent, which she sprayed on her wrists, behind her ears, and then applied a little to her collarbone.

The cool liquid touched her burning skin, making her shiver.

She walked up to the full-length mirror and almost fainted after just one glance.

The person in the mirror was practically naked; thin red ropes outlined her body, and her fair skin was partially concealed by the red gauze, revealing even her nipples.

She quickly grabbed the long red nightgown and wrapped it around herself, tying the belt tightly.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped together, her knuckles white.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Wang Hao came out.

He was only wearing a pair of shorts, his upper body bare, with broad shoulders, a strong chest, and the muscle lines on his arms taut under the warm yellow light. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his waist and abdomen, and below that, his V-line was hidden at the edge of his pants.

Her hair was dripping wet, and a drop of water slid down her collarbone to her chest and then into the groove of her abdominal muscles.

Ding Jiahe looked up and immediately blushed. She quickly lowered her head, her heart pounding as if it would jump out of her throat.

Wang Hao walked over, drying his hair. He saw Ding Jiahe sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed and wearing a long bathrobe. He paused for a moment, then asked, "...Tired? Why don't you get some rest?"

"Hmm..." Ding Jiahe responded softly and nodded.

With a series of snaps, the light bulbs were turned off, leaving only a small glass-shaded lamp on the bedside table, casting an ambiguous, colorful halo in the room.

Wang Hao looked at her, sat down beside her, and his eyes darkened.

Neither of them spoke. After a few seconds of silence, Wang Hao reached out and gently cupped her face, his thumb slowly caressing her burning cheeks.

"Xiao Ding..." he asked in a low voice, his voice hoarse.

"...Hmm." Ding Jiahe's eyelashes trembled violently as she looked up at Wang Hao, her eyes unfocused.

Wang Hao moved closer, his nose brushing against hers, their breaths mingling.

He gently kissed her forehead, then her brow, down her nose, and finally onto her lips.

His hand slid from her shoulder to her back, gently stroking her through her nightgown.

Ding Jiahe's breathing grew heavier, and her fingers clenched the bed sheet tightly.

Wang Hao's kisses gradually became bolder, moving from her lips to her chin, then to her slender neck, and finally burying his face in the crook of her neck, gently sucking and kissing her.

Ding Jiahe tilted her head back, letting out a soft moan, her fingers unconsciously digging into Wang Hao's wet hair.

Wang Hao's hand moved to the tie of her robe, his fingers hooking the tie, and he gently pulled it up.

The strap has come loose.

"Don't...don't look..." Ding Jiahe hurriedly covered her face, her voice muffled, so ashamed she was about to cry.

The red robe slipped down, revealing what was underneath: a fair body covered only by a few thin ropes and an almost transparent red veil.

Wang Hao's breath hitched, and his pupils contracted sharply.

The intense visual impact made him feel like he was about to explode.

"Xiao Ding?" Wang Hao looked at the clothes in disbelief.

Ding Jiahe's long hair cascaded down, partially obscuring her flushed cheeks.

The thin red string outlined her slender waist and full curves, and her fair skin was faintly visible under the red gauze, like a burning flame.

"Do you...like it?" Ding Jiahe turned her head away, not daring to look at Wang Hao.

He gently took Ding Jiahe's hand and pulled her to his side, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible: "...You're so beautiful."

Wang Hao cupped the back of her head and kissed her deeply.

This time, it wasn't gentle; instead, it was filled with a burning possessiveness.

His hand roamed over her back.

Ding Jiahe was trembling all over, and her breathing was completely disordered.

For the first time, she felt this strange, embarrassing tingling sensation, which shot from her spine to the top of her head, and her fingers, as if on their own, wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer.