Chapter 213 The Ruthless Patriarch 22 (1/2)

With his ambiguous assistance, the unruly lump of mud seemed to have finally found its backbone, gradually becoming more orderly as it spun around.

Pei Mozhi loosened his grip slightly, no longer pressing down so forcefully, but instead guided her fingers to slowly push and pull upwards along the inside of the clay brick.

His movements became gentle and patient, his fingertips, carrying water, gliding between her fingertips, helping her feel the subtle changes in the clay as it spun.

"Baby, slow down, use even pressure..."

He gave her instructions in a low voice, his voice like a faint electric current, brushing past her ear.

As the clay spun, it gradually yielded, obediently rising and gathering between the two men's overlapping fingers.

A cup wall that, while not perfect, was now noticeably more upright and symmetrical was finally formed.

Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on their mud-covered, tightly clasped hands.

"alright."

Pei Mozhi released her hand, his fingertips seemingly intentionally or unintentionally tracing a clear wet trail across the back of her muddy hand as he left.

Looking at the simple but somewhat cup-like shape on the turntable, Zi Xi felt a small sense of accomplishment, as if she had completed a work, and a strange, secret thrill that welled up in her heart as she felt completely controlled and guided by those powerful hands.

She subconsciously curled her fingers; the mud on her fingertips was icy cold, but the places he had touched still seemed to be slightly warm.

The night was deep and dark. Zi Xi leaned against the headboard, her skin, which had just been bathed, exuded a warm fragrance of gardenias, and her hair was still a little damp.

She was holding a photo album. They had done a lot together recently, made many memories, and their relationship had become much more natural.

The sound of running water came from the direction of the bathroom; Pei Mozhi was still inside.

She let out a soft sigh, trying to dispel the inexplicable restlessness in her heart.

As I flipped through the latest page, my gaze fell upon an antique-looking ceramic cup in the album. Another cup, its walls seemingly crooked, exuded a kind of clumsy charm.

Just then, the sound of water in the bathroom stopped. After a brief silence, the door lock clicked softly.

Zi Xi subconsciously raised her head.

The door was pushed open.

Warm, humid air billowed out first, and then a figure stepped into the hazy halo of light.

Time seemed to have been paused for a moment.

The soft light from the wall lamp fell on him, outlining his striking features.

Pei Mozhi was not wearing his usual bathrobe, or even any regular pajamas.

He only had a loosely tied cloth around his waist—no, it wasn't a bath towel.

It was a black veil, covered with an ornament made of countless black chains that shimmered with a dark metallic luster.

Like some ancient and forbidden binding totem, it hung loosely on his tight and powerful waist and hips.

The end of the chain hung down naturally, reflecting a sharp, cold glint in the light as he walked, creating a striking contrast with his tanned, muscular skin.

Water droplets rolled slowly down his broad shoulders and the firm, undulating lines of his chest and abdomen.

His short hair was still dripping water, the droplets sliding down his angular jaw and landing on the hollow of his well-defined collarbone.

He walked steadily, his steps conveying a sense of power poised to be unleashed.

The chains clattered against each other with his steps, producing a subtle, crisp, and strangely rhythmic tinkling sound. In the excessively quiet bedroom, each sound seemed to strike the heart.

His gaze was fixed firmly on Zi Xi's face.

Those deep eyes held an undisguised aggressiveness.