Zhou Luchen raised his eyebrows.
A fluffy white ball nestled softly in his arms.
Man and animal locked eyes.
In that moment, Young Master Zhou smiled with extra affection.
The little white cat seemed to gather courage, its two paws propped on Zhou Luchen's thigh, pink-rimmed claws reaching up to his shirt collar.
The slanted angle unintentionally revealed multiple kiss marks on the man's neck. They were mottled: dark purple, passionate, and unabashed.
Zhou Luchen's deep and complex eyes were, at this moment, both dark and fierce.
"Get down."
Clearly, no matter how cute or endearing this cat was, it could no longer evoke a shred of pity from Young Master Zhou.
The cat's body shuddered. Almost immediately sensing his cold indifference, it leaped from his arms onto the sofa, obediently curling up in a corner and meowing meekly.
Wei Sulin was used to it; Young Master Zhou was just like that—passionate yet heartless.
