An hour later.
The first floor of Fang Wenping's house.
In the living room, the creaking sofa finally stopped shaking. It felt like the whole thing was about to fall apart, its frame no longer steady. Then, the hurried breathing of a man and a woman drowned out every other sound. Only seven or eight seconds later did their breathing ease slightly.
Another hour passed.
Including last night, Dong Xuebin and Fang Wenping had actually gone at it for around four hours out of twelve. Dong Xuebin was rather impressed with himself, but there was something else he admired himself for even more: in a moment of impulse, he had actually grabbed Fang Wenping by the hair. And for most of the time, he had kept going in a position Fang Wenping clearly disliked, even resisted. From beginning to end, he had never let go of Old Fang's beautiful long hair, keeping it in his hand and tugging it back slightly. Now that his excitement had faded, Dong Xuebin started trembling all over. He couldn't help it; he was nervous. He had been far too reckless just now. He had no idea where he had found such courage. Thinking back on it now, he was hit by a wave of lingering fear.
This was bad.
Old Fang wouldn't come after him later, would she?
With that awful temper of hers, she definitely wouldn't let this go!
Dong Xuebin glanced at Fang Wenping, who was lying beneath him and gasping for breath. He coughed, quietly released the hair in his hand, pulled out of her, and carefully stepped down from the sofa. He casually took some tissues from the Coffee Table and wiped himself off, then turned and handed several to Fang Wenping as well.
Fang Wenping did not take them