The Legend Of Fuyao Book 1

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A full face, initially concealed by the shadows, became visible like the rising of the moon from the ocean end. That split second of clarity and brightness, or rather shocking realization, punched Meng Fuyao into a state of unconsciousness.

Immediately upon waking up, she cursed over and over again, albeit inwardly. As she shifted backward with a panicked look emerging on her face, she quietly felt about for her soft whip.

Before she could reach it, her fingers jolted backward, as if flicked by an invisible force. Opposite of her stood the man, smilingly retracting his hand while shaking his head. Lady, lady, acting doesnt work all the time.

The moon hung high and bright as the mans robes fluttered in the night breeze. Carrying a careless smile on his face he moved forward unhurriedly, allowing his baggy sleeves to fly with the wind. He almost resembled the mythical phoenix that lived above the ninth heaven.

There was a kind of pure vibe that some people radiated.

There was also a kind of charm that others exuded.

Yet, few managed to achieve the perfect blend between both. Those who did had a unique aura and magnificence about them. There was carefreeness within elegance and concealed depth within warmth.

The sandstones produced crisp sounds as a faint, unusual fragrance permeated the air. The man gracefully, yet shamelessly, inched closer toward Meng Fuyao, turning his face slightly to the side.

She could almost feel her windpipe swelling up, making it hard to breathe.

His sharp brows carried a high but soft arch that reminded people of the willow trees by the jade springs in March – radiant and fresh.

As for his beautifully-lined profile, no light in the whole of heaven and earth could resist taking a rest beneath his deep-set eyes.

Such immortal beauty made people lose their ability to speak, and Meng Fuyao was no exception.

In contrast, the man was at complete ease. He casually brushed away the dust around, but seeing that the ground couldnt be cleaned easily, he stopped bothering. Instead, he reached his hand out to pull her in.

Flustered, Meng Fuyao rolled out of his embrace and plonked onto a wet area. You what are you doing?

Using his arm as a pillow, the man simply remained at rest position and looked at her. A dusky smile made its way to his lips as he replied, What? Im cold. Sleeping alone will make it worse, so Im going to sleep with you.

With a blushed face, Fuyao responded weakly, Hey I cant possibly take advantage of this situation

But Id like it, the man reassured before flinging his sleeves outward and over her waist, and pulling her close once more. Hush, be good and listen.

The faint aroma that his body emitted smelled like fine wine, and intensified with the quick movement of his sleeves. The scent was beyond intoxicating, and as though her brain was inflammable, Fuyao felt something ignite within her head, wiping out all rationality. Unable to react, she froze in her spot while wallowing in the low chuckle that rang close to her ear. His breaths lingered over and tickled her face ever so lightly.

It was a magical kind of tingle that shot straight to her heart. Meng Fuyao could hear the quick thumping within her chest. Gradually, her face started to heat up, and she fell into a state of dizziness.

This new experience left her body limp, but whatever traces of reason she possessed in her mind reminded her to stay sober. Wanting to struggle free, Fuyao used both hands to push against his chest. Suddenly, her palms turned hot.