Become a stepmother and save the male protagonist of the painful literary school

Tong Ruixiao sat on the chair and, as she requested, took off her black silk top halfway to her arms, exposing her chest and waist.

She mixed the colors, stood further away, squinted at his body, and thought about what to paint.

He has a good figure, above average, and a healthy wheat-colored complexion. Because he has been working out for many years, he is not skinny, but strong and has traces of muscles, but not the exaggerated large muscles of a fitness coach. He has beautiful chest muscles and a tight waist and abdomen, which is suitable for graffiti.

In fact, you can tell from his usual suits that he is not very skinny. If he wants to hold up a suit and look elegant, he must not have the physique of a boiled chicken.

She glanced at his body, then at the unopened razor blade beside him. She commented, "There's no chest hair. Did you shave it yourself?"

"No, it's genetic."

Tong Ruixiao explained very concisely, it was not that he didn't want to talk, but he always felt that speaking would make him look more embarrassed.

The first time I couldn't breathe.

In this state, normal breathing will seem strange because breathing will cause the chest to rise and fall.

Ups and downs... a little shameful, always feels inappropriate.

"Really? I always thought most men had it, more or less."

She touched the brush to his beautiful collarbone and felt the canvas tense.

When I thought about how he was able to plan and strategize in normal times, but now he was so tense as if facing a powerful enemy, I could not help but want to laugh.

"There are people with abundant body hair. Such people usually have beards." He paused, and suddenly thought of something and looked up at her, seeming a little unhappy. "Did you get this idea from Jian Yao?"

Jian Yan paused with his brush and outlined the red edge of the rose petals, which was extremely seductive.

She didn’t prove herself, “I don’t want to hear his name.”

"You already owe me an apology for him."

He stopped asking and told himself to trust her and not to be paranoid.

Just say, “I’m apologizing.”

"Then show your sincerity."

"Am I not sincere? I am at your mercy..."

The man's words seemed a little aggrieved.

His calm and elegant demeanor at that time was all soaked in her paint to sound pitiful, and coupled with her nice voice, her submissive words were particularly heartwarming.

She heard it and turned her wrist suddenly. The tip of the brush swept across the blurred red, and he trembled uncontrollably, clenched his hands on the armrest of the chair, and uttered a muffled groan: "Hmm..."

"Don't tremble!"

She held his shoulders and wiped the flower branches that were tilted by his shaking with a tissue, feeling a little angry.

Tong Ruixiao grabbed her wrist, his eyes deep and dark under his rimless glasses, his voice hoarse, "...I can do it myself."

She handed him the tissue and broke free from his restraints, "Yes."

Tong Ruixiao wiped off the flower branch himself, rubbing his skin red from the effort, and the stinging pain helped him stay awake.

Jian Yan lowered his head to change pens and colors, and said nonchalantly, "Do you usually have this lack of self-control?"

He said: "It's easier to talk while standing."

She couldn't understand it. It was obviously because of his mistake that she had to redraw the picture, so why was he angry?

He picked up the paintbrush again, pulled up the branch that passed through his right chest, and little by little completed the rose on his collarbone.

The color from the center of the flower to the edge of the petals changes gradually from black to blood red, and two faintly visible black mist butterflies are flying around it, which is strange and enchanting.

"It's pretty good," she nodded in admiration. "I wanted to try to find a model a long time ago. I only thought about the effect of roses on drawings, but I didn't expect that they would look better on people."

"It seems that I can try more body painting in the future..."

She felt better.

Tong Ruixiao pursed her lips and said nothing, feeling sour again.

No, she is not allowed to draw others like this!

He was extremely jealous when he thought about her being so close to others, touching their skin and running her paintbrush over their bodies.

No matter how much I shouted silently, I couldn't say it out loud, and I felt uncomfortable for a while.

"It's not over yet. Just control yourself for a moment."

Jian Yan changed to a new pen and painted with completely black paint.

Start from the joint of his chest, and paint from the outside to the inside. Use the bright red spot as the center of the flower, and use a fine brush to carefully outline the rose pattern around it.

The cold paint penetrated through the chest to every part of the body, but it could not cover up the burning heat rising in the body.

It felt like there was a fire in my chest, burning my breathing to the point of boiling and almost making me tremble.

He endured it and remained calm.

This is a rose at the top of a side branch growing from a branch. Unlike the one on the right which has a black center and red petals, this one has a red center and black petals.

He could not stand the layers of petals, and was extremely tortured. He asked many times:

"Ok?"

"This flower has just started. Don't you have any plans for the afternoon? Why are you in such a hurry?"

Jian Yan shook his head. Painting has always been a slow and meticulous process and one cannot be impatient at all.

He was so anxious that every second felt like a year.

"How much longer?"

"There's still half."

It felt like a century had passed. Tong Ruixiao could no longer bear it. His gentle voice became hoarse and his breathing became unstable: "...Xiao Jian, let me go."

Almost a plea.

She looked up at him and found a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

Surprised, "Why are you sweating so much?"

"Is it very painful? Only an hour has passed."

She was so focused on painting that she gradually forgot about his presence and didn't notice how uncomfortable he was. As long as he didn't move, she would be painting a human body with body temperature, and it was hard to pay attention to his expression.

I took out a tissue and gave it to him so he could wipe his sweat.

"Then stop for a moment and continue painting later."

He was helpless and tormented, "So, you won't let me go?"

"Yes, this is a punishment in itself."

"This method... is too harsh a punishment." He drank a lot of water, but still couldn't quench his thirst. His voice was low and hoarse, sexier than usual. "You are very good at torturing people."

Jian Yan didn't understand why.

She felt that it was not unacceptable, but just a little humiliating, nothing more. It was not like she was stabbing him, how could it be torture?

After resting for a while, she continued painting.

He already knew that no matter what he said, he would not be able to stop her from completing the painting, so he simply kept his strength to remain still and let her end the torture of him as soon as possible.

Jian Yan outlined the rose thoroughly, applying a thin layer of paint that was almost transparent to create a tone, which dried quickly.

After finishing the painting, she took out her cell phone and took a photo.

Tong Ruixiao heard a "click" sound, his pupils contracted, and he couldn't believe it: "What are you doing?"

“This is my first time drawing a human body. I’ll keep this as a souvenir.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips, as if sweeping away all the unhappiness.