Discussion

The next morning, dawn pierced the clouds like scattered gold and gently spilled over Holy Pill City. The sleeping streets gradually awakened; more pedestrians filled the bluestone roads, and the cries of vendors and sounds of laughter intertwined into a lively melody. The entire city shed the stillness of night and brimmed with vibrant, fervent life, its every corner alive with the bustle of ordinary people.

Not far from the Pill Tower stood an elegant, secluded courtyard. The morning mist had yet to disperse completely, and crystal-clear dew still clung to the grass and trees.

Inside an antique bedroom, the gauze curtains of a carved canopy bed hung lightly. Xiao Ling, bare from the waist up, slowly opened his eyes. A trace of just-awakened languor remained in his dark eyes, but with a faint tremble of his long lashes, the remnants of sleep were swept away.

His well-defined chest rose and fell gently with his steady breathing. Two faint, refined fragrances still lingered around him—the lingering traces of last night's intimacy. Blending with the warm scent within the room, they filled it with a tender, lingering air.

His palms rested against two soft, boneless bodies, their delicate warmth traveling from his fingertips to the depths of his heart. Xiao Ling could not help but feel ripples stir within him.

The tender intimacy of the previous night surged into his mind like a tide—the lingering closeness of lips and teeth, the searing heat of skin pressed against skin. Every scene was as clear as if it had happened moments ago, leaving him utterly at ease and filled from head to toe with indescribable satisfaction.

This supreme pleasure of holding beauties on both sides was a sensation he had not enjoyed in a long time. The restraint and endurance he had practiced