After the breakup, I was taken in by a group of trendy young women.

Lin Ye's palm touched the skin on the inside of her thigh.

The temperature of that skin was higher than his knee, higher than his calf, higher than any other part of his body he had ever touched before.

It wasn't the burning heat of a fever, but a different kind of heat that surged from the deepest part of the body, full of vitality, like magma deep in the earth's crust.

His fingers paused for a moment on that patch of skin.

Then he grabbed her thigh.

It wasn't a gentle caress, nor a test; he grasped her five fingers, spread them, and placed them on the inside of her thigh, with his thumb on the outside and his four fingers on the inside.

He could almost wrap his arms around her thighs. Her legs were so thin, but the touch of his hands wasn't hard; it was soft, the kind of warm, elastic softness that had the fat of a young girl.

The woman with the flower-like legs froze completely.

Her breathing went from steady to rapid, and her chest rose and fell visibly under the black suspenders.

Her face was still turned towards the wall.

But Lin Ye could see her profile clearly in the light of the streetlamp. The pink hue had spread from her cheekbone to her earlobe, down to her chin, and even the thin vein on the side of her neck was flushed red.

"Flower legs".

Lin Ye called her name.

She didn't respond.

Lin Ye called out again, this time in a lower voice.

Her eyelashes trembled.

"elder brother……"

The sound bounced back from the direction of the wall, tinged with sobs.

"Don't look at me..."

Why?

"because……"

She said one word and then couldn't continue.

A very soft sound came from his throat, like the sound a small animal makes when its tail is stepped on. It wasn't crying or shouting; it was the most primitive and defenseless sound that leaked out from under the rubble after all defenses collapsed at the same time.

"Why?"

Lin Ye asked again.

He moved his hand, which was gripping her thigh, up half an inch.

This time it wasn't instinct, it was a response.

Lin Ye's hand finally stopped at the edge of the black halter skirt.

The hem of the skirt has a very fine lace trim, which has been washed many times and is now somewhat deformed.

His fingers hooked around the lace, his fingertips caressing the thin, pilling fabric.

Flower Legs turned his face back from the wall.

The streetlights shone directly on her face.

Her expression was not what Lin Ye had expected.

It wasn't shyness, nervousness, fear, or anticipation—it was the sum of all these emotions, plus a unique expression he'd never seen on any woman's face before, an expression that belonged only to Hua Tui.

Her eyes were glistening with moisture, but not tears.

His lips were slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of the white of his front teeth.

The nasal wings flared more than usual, and the breathing was rapid and shallow.

Her whole face looked like a flower that had been soaked by the rain, with water droplets all over the petals, but the stamen was dry, waiting for the sun to come out.

"elder brother."

She spoke, her voice hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against glass.

"Do you...like big ones?"

Lin Ye was stunned for a moment.

Looking at his expression, Hua Tui suddenly smiled.

When he smiled, there was something in that smile that made Lin Ye's heart ache—it was inferiority.

A girl who was so thin that her shoulder blades protruded, whose wrists were so thin that he could grasp them with one hand, and whose waist was so narrow that he could encircle it with both hands, looked at a girl who was even thinner than her, whose arms were covered with koi and lotus tattoos. After the comparison, a kind of inferiority complex that grew from her heart, like a fine vine, wrapped around all her confidence.

Lin Ye looked at her for two seconds.

Then he moved.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand still holding her thigh.

At that moment, he took the leg off his shoulder. The movement wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rough either. He just took it off, like taking something that shouldn't be there.

The eyelashes of the woman with the flower-like legs trembled.

Then she felt Lin Ye's body press down on her.

It wasn't the kind of pressure that comes from his entire weight pressing down on her; it was the motion of him leaning over her. His hands were on either side of the pillow, and his body was suspended above her. He blocked most of the light from the streetlamp, and his shadow fell on her face, shrouding her expression in darkness.

The woman with the tattooed legs looked up at him from his shadow.

From this angle, his jawline was sharp, his Adam's apple prominent, and a small patch of skin in his collarbone was illuminated by the streetlight. His shoulders were broad, and the muscle lines of his arms, which supported him on either side, were faintly visible in the shadows.

He lowered his head.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"It's not that I like big ones."

His voice was very low, so low that only she could hear it. It was so low that it drowned out all the sounds, including the night wind outside the window, the purring of the tattooed man in the living room, and the rustling sound of Qi Liuhai pouring cat food for Wangcai at the end of the corridor.

"I like you."

The flower-legged man's eyes lit up in the darkness.

It wasn't a metaphor, it meant literally. A sliver of light from the streetlamp shone through his shadow, landing right on her eyes, making her deep brown pupils appear as if they had been lit up in that instant.

Lin Ye moved his hand away from the edge of the pillow.

Move it to her waist.

Her waist was incredibly narrow in his palm, and he could feel the muscles in her abdomen tighten slightly from the warmth of his hand through the thin black straps.

His fingers hooked the hem of the suspenders.

He pushed the fabric up a bit, revealing a small patch of gleaming white skin on his side. That skin had no tattoos, no scars, no trace of being harmed by the world; it was as clean as a piece of paper that had never been written on.

The woman with the flowery legs paused for a moment.

Then she did something that Lin Ye never expected.

She raised her hand and took the black tank top off her head herself.

Just like Bai Xiaojing's actions last night, they were decisive, efficient, and without hesitation or coyness.

But unlike Bai Xiaojing, her hands were shaking.

It wasn't a slight tremor; it was the kind of trembling that occurred when the whole body was tense to the extreme, causing the muscles to tremble uncontrollably.

The black halter top was removed from her head, and the streetlights shone down again.

It landed on her.

Lin Ye's gaze lingered on her for a moment.

White.

This is the first word that pops into my head.

It wasn't that sickly white; it was the white unique to an eighteen-year-old girl, untouched by the sun's excessive kisses, with a very faint layer of downy hair.

The streetlights cast a warm orange hue over the white area, revealing faint blue veins below the collarbone and ribs that bulged slightly from under the skin like white keys on a piano.

Starting from the collarbone, two soft curves begin to spread out to the sides.

It wasn't exaggerated; it was just right, perfectly matching the proportions of her frame.

It was as if someone had measured her body with the most precise calipers and then drawn two perfect lines in the most suitable positions.

It's not too big.

It's just right.

Her tense muscles relaxed completely, her stiff joints disintegrated, and she sank into the mattress like a piece of butter melted in the sun.