His physiological preference

Yang Zhiyan turned around and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

He used to only come over when it was time to eat. He would help her cook, eat, wash the dishes, and then leave.

It wasn't lunchtime yet, and Yang Zhiyan tried to take the bag, but he followed her in carrying his own things.

Qin Yuzheng placed the bag next to the shoe cabinet in the entryway and straightened up to look at her.

"Girlfriend," he said, his tone as if stating an undeniable fact, "you've neglected your boyfriend for most of the day, and now I want to spend some time with you, is that okay?"

Yang Zhiyan looked at him. His expression was serious, even a little aggrieved.

"But I want to sleep," she said. "I'm too tired."

"It's alright," Qin Yuzheng said, having already entered the living room and sat down on the sofa, acting as naturally as if he were at home. "I'll wait for you in the living room."

Yang Zhiyan stood in the entryway, watching him sit on her sofa. He was wearing a white shirt and dark gray trousers, sitting very upright with his back straight and his hands on his knees, looking very serious.

She wanted to say, "You don't need to wait for me," and "You can go back first," but looking at him, she couldn't bring herself to say those words. Oh well, if he likes it, let him stay.

Yang Zhiyan changed into slippers, carried the things she bought to the bedroom door, then walked back to the living room and sat down on the sofa.

She sank into the soft cushions, let out a long breath, pulled her legs up onto the sofa, and hugged the pillows. Home is so comfortable.

Qin Yuzheng sat next to her, watching her curl up like a cat that had found its nest, her body tucked up, her eyes half-closed, as if she could fall asleep at any moment.

"Are your feet tired?" he asked.

"Tired," Yang Zhiyan said with her eyes closed.

"Let me massage it for you."

Before Yang Zhiyan could react, Qin Yuzheng had already lifted her feet off the sofa and placed them on his lap.

His hand held her calf, his fingers just touching the calf, warm and with a little pressure.

Yang Zhiyan opened her eyes abruptly as if electrocuted, pulling her legs back. "No need, no need..."

Qin Yuzheng pressed down gently, without letting go. "Good boy," he said in a low voice, "a little press will make you feel better."

Yang Zhiyan struggled twice but couldn't break free.

His hand didn't seem to be using much force, but it was wrapped tightly around her calf, just enough so she couldn't pull it back.

Her cheeks flushed and her heart raced.

Her feet were resting on his thighs, her calves pressed against the fabric of his trousers, and she could feel the warmth of his thighs and the hardness of his muscles.

She dared not move, nor dared to look at his face, so she fixed her gaze on the water glass on the coffee table, staring at the half-full glass of water.

This was the first time someone had massaged her feet. It was the first time she had been treated like this, with someone placing her feet on their thighs, holding her calves, and saying "good girl."

She didn't know if all people in relationships were like this, or if it was just him.

Qin Yuzheng lowered his head and looked at her feet.

Her feet were delicate and exquisite; his palm could cover the entire instep.

His toes were rounded, and his nails were neatly trimmed and unpainted, a natural pinkish-white. His ankles were slender, and he could hold them in one hand.

The skin on the instep was so white that you could see the light blue veins underneath. He thought these feet were beautiful, delicate, and graceful. How could they be so beautiful? Every detail touched his heart.

His fingers slid from her calf to her ankle, and from her ankle to the instep, applying just the right amount of pressure for a very comfortable massage.

Yang Zhiyan's toes curled involuntarily, feeling a tingling sensation.

Qin Yuzheng felt her toes curl, paused for a moment, and looked up at her.

She leaned back on the sofa, hugging a cushion to her chest, resting her chin on it, her face as red as a boiled shrimp.

Her eyes were fixed on the water glass on the coffee table, her gaze unfocused.

Qin Yuzheng's lips curved slightly as he lowered his head and continued pressing. But his hands began to wander, slowly moving upwards from the instep of her foot, his fingers wrapping around her ankle and pressing towards the sole of her foot.

His thumb pressed down on the soft flesh of her sole, and Yang Zhiyan hummed in response.

She immediately bit her lip, cutting off the sound.

Qin Yuzheng paused for a moment.

He heard it; it was a very short, very soft sound, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on. It wasn't a meow, but a whimper.

Something inside his body was ignited by that sound, burning from his abdomen down his body.

He subtly removed her foot from his thigh and moved half a body length to the side.

"What's wrong?" Yang Zhiyan opened her eyes, her voice still languid from being massaged.

"Change positions," Qin Yuzheng said, his voice as calm as if nothing had happened, "make it easier for you to press."

He wasn't telling the truth. He moved away because he was afraid she would notice the change in his body if he pressed it down again.

He was afraid that if her foot moved even an inch higher, it would touch a place where he shouldn't be touched. He was afraid he would lose control.

Yang Zhiyan didn't suspect anything. She was too tired. She had gone to bed late last night and was woken up early this morning by her mother. She had been shopping for most of the day, and now someone was massaging her feet on the soft and comfortable sofa. Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

Qin Yuzheng continued pressing, but with less force and slower movements than before.

She could feel his fingers gently massaging her feet, the rhythm slow and steady, like the beat of a lullaby.

She had been talking to him casually, but her voice trailed off halfway through. Qin Yuzheng waited a few seconds; there was no sound, only her long, even breathing.

Yang Zhiyan fell asleep. She leaned against the sofa, a cushion in her arms, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted.

Her eyelashes were long, casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyelids when they drooped down. Her nostrils flared gently with her breathing, and her chest rose and fell. The neckline of her white dress opened and closed slightly with her breathing.

Qin Yuzheng stopped and gently and slowly lowered her foot off his leg.

I moved very gently, afraid that any unnecessary movement would wake her.

He got up from the sofa, knelt on one knee on the carpet in front of the sofa, one hand on the sofa armrest, and the other hand hanging next to her face.

He had never had the chance to look at her so quietly, so closely, without any distractions.

Her eyebrows are curved, which is her natural shape. The tail of her eyebrows is lighter than the head, like the lightest stroke in a traditional Chinese ink painting.

Her eyelashes were long and slightly upturned, resembling two small fans folded together when her eyes were closed.

Her skin was very white, with a pinkish hue, and you could see the veins underneath, like the finest mutton fat jade.

Her lips were light pink, and when she was asleep, they were slightly open, revealing a glimpse of the white of her teeth.

Every part of her is etched in his heart. Every part of her is exactly how he likes her, perfectly placed in the softest spot in his heart.

He used to be a person without desires or wants, not particular about food or clothing, and had no interest in matters between men and women.

He thought he was born cold-hearted and that he would live out his life alone.

Power was his only obsession. After meeting her, he realized he was wrong. It wasn't that he was without desires; he simply hadn't met the person he truly wanted.

He wanted her; from every inch of his skin to the deepest part of his heart, every cell was screaming "I want her."

Since meeting Yang Zhiyan, he has had all four essential elements of life: sexual desire, appetite, the desire to share, the desire to express, and vitality.