The balcony of Ethan Ying's house is connected to the living room and is equipped with a large sliding glass door.
It was the best time of the morning sunlight, and the bright light shone into the living room through the glass, showing everything inside clearly in front of the eyes.
Ryan Jing was half lying on the sofa, pressed down by Ethan Ying, with the hem of his clothes rolled up, revealing a small part of his fair and slender waist.
It's not that he didn't understand what Ethan Ying meant, he had agreed to even more extreme things. But it was daytime now, and in the living room.
His face flushed, his heart pounded, and he barely managed to maintain a trace of clarity, trying to pull his hand out of Ethan Ying's hand: "...No."
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