Jiang Yan
When you walk out of the bedroom rubbing your eyes, Jiang Yan is leaning against the kitchen counter drinking water.
He's shirtless, with loose black loungewear pants hanging low on his hip bones. The lines of his shoulders and back taper down his waist, disappearing into the waistband. Condensation clings to the glass, sliding down his knuckles and rolling over the faint scar on the inside of his wrist.
Hearing footsteps, he glances over, his Adam's apple bobbing as he sets the empty glass on the counter.
"Awake? Go wash up. The tomato noodles are getting soggy."Faça login para continuar a conversa.