Huo Yuhao and Tang Wutong's Feelings Deepen, Joining Forces to Rescue the Families of Three Nations

As dawn approached, Tang Wutong woke first.

She opened her eyes, her fingers still clutching his collar, her knuckles slightly stiff from gripping it all night. She froze for a moment, then hurriedly let go, only for her fingertips to brush the bite mark she had left on his collarbone the night before—dark red and purple, deep, and especially glaring in the morning light.

Tang Wutong's ears instantly burned. She remembered what she had done last night: crying as she questioned him about Ma Xiaotao, then sobbing out, "You're mine," at the height of her pleasure.

Those words, those actions, those tears—remembering them in daylight made her want to crawl into a crack in the ground.

She buried her face in the pillow, feeling that she had never been this humiliated in her life.

Huo Yuhao had not woken yet. He was sleeping unusually deeply, his breathing even and slow. Tang Wutong secretly peeked at him through the gap by the pillow and saw the ten nail marks she had scratched down his back, stretching from his shoulder blades to his waist, red enough to make her heart jump. Her face grew even hotter.

She quietly got up, moving as lightly as a thief, and discovered that her inner garment had been kneaded into a wrinkled mess by him last night, with three of its ties torn. Biting her lower lip, she resentfully turned back and glared at him. Huo Yuhao was still asleep, utterly unaware of her glare.

She put on his outer robe. It was far too large for her, its collar slipping down to reveal half her shoulder, where a small kiss mark he had left the night before showed. When Tang Wutong spotted it in the little bronze mirror inside the tent, she hurriedly pulled the