An Junlie sat on the sofa for a long while, having accepted the barbecued meat sent over by his bodyguards, but Ziye still hadn't emerged. He glanced at his watch, picked up Little Sprout, who was snoring softly, and said, "Go inside and see what's taking Ziye so long."

Little Sprout blinked its hazy, sleepy eyes, realizing, "You're asking me to spy on Ziye taking a bath?"

An Junlie: ...

This little creature was more like a pet than a pet; it was too bold!

To vindicate himself, An Junlie explained, "She’s been in there for half an hour and hasn't come out. Maybe if you check, things will be better."

Little Sprout gave him a sidelong glance, "Why don't you go look?"

An Junlie considered it, "There’s a difference between men and women."

Little Sprout's gaze swept over his body, then recalled Ziye carefully, "You have two arms and two legs, and so does she. I don't see any difference!"

Helpless, An Junlie lifted the creature and walked to the bathroom door, opened it a crack, and tossed it inside.

Moments later, an enraged shout came from within: "Alien, this Lord hates you!!!"

Hearing this, An Junlie gave a faint smile but remained silent—

He was worried that speaking up suddenly outside the door would give Ziye the suspicion of eavesdropping and frighten her.

What frustrated him was that after Little Sprout's outburst, there was no further sound.

He paced back and forth before the door, yet still heard no echo, making him wonder if Little Sprout had also fallen into the water and broken down. After all, it couldn't possibly be plotting revenge, could it?

In fact, Little Sprout was precisely plotting revenge.

The petty Little Sprout wanted to keep quiet, but seeing Ziye’s nose about to dip underwater, it finally cried out, "Oh no! The little idiot is drowning!"

An Junlie was startled and instinctively pushed the door open. Halfway through, he suddenly felt it was inappropriate, immediately stopped, and, adopting a gentlemanly tone and demeanor, asked, "Ziye, may I come in?"

Ziye gave no reply.

But Little Sprout’s cries grew louder: "It’s reached her forehead!"

An Junlie knew Little Sprout might be deceiving him, but Ziye’s silence and lack of reaction made him increasingly anxious. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the door open and rushed in.

In the tub, Ziye was indeed sinking toward the bottom.

Leaning against the porcelain, her eyes were closed—it was impossible to tell if she was asleep or unconscious. Her head was tilted, the lower part of her chin submerged, and she showed no reaction to his entry.

Ignoring everything else, he reached into the water, lifted her out, grabbed a nearby towel to cover her, and carried her out of the bathroom.

Little Sprout flapped its wings, following behind An Junlie, its sprout-like appendage on its head bent into a question mark. It still hadn't figured out the difference between An Junlie’s body and Ziye’s. Ziye was just a bit fairer, and perhaps slightly smaller and less dense than An Junlie.

Did these minor points constitute a "difference between men and women"?

Little Sprout shook its head. Natural variations occurred in all living things; such small differences were normal. There must be a distinction it hadn't perceived, and it was determined to study this further, so it excitedly trailed behind An Junlie.

An Junlie carried Ziye into the guest room, but instead of placing her immediately on the large bed, he sat down on a nearby, expansive tiger-skin chair, settled Ziye onto his lap, and used one hand to gently wipe her body with the towel.

She wasn't unconscious; she was simply exhausted and asleep.

He dared not move too roughly, ensuring that the necessary parts remained covered. Little Sprout blinked its eyes, missing the central region, but seeing the exposed upper chest and lower legs, it understood: Ziye’s physique bore a greater resemblance to Tang Wen’s—both looked like pale, poached chickens...

"Sprout, bring me a shirt."

Suddenly called upon, Little Sprout snapped out of its musings. Without questioning An Junlie, it scanned its surroundings, spotted a white dress shirt draped on the sofa, flew over, wrapped the main label on its head-sprout around the fabric, and strained towards An Junlie.

It was too light; even for a shirt, it was a massive burden.

It half-dragged, half-carried the shirt over to An Junlie.

An Junlie saw it was one of his shirts he had worn but hadn't washed yet.

However, at that moment, he couldn't find anything else. He settled for putting the shirt on Ziye, buttoning just two fasteners casually, then removed the towel to dry her hair.

The hotel provided professional dryers. He wiped away the dripping water, ran the dryer over her locks, and they were soon completely dry.

Little Sprout watched him bustling about, feeling slightly dejected.

Wuuuuu~

No more body to see.

Its research wasn't finished. But Ziye was dressed now, and it couldn't see anything.

Little Sprout expressed its deep disappointment, let out a yawn, flew to the sofa outside, and resumed sleeping beside its 'son.'

After finishing with her hair, An Junlie wiped away the residual water droplets from his lap. As for the area between her legs, he dared not look. The sight of the Commander’s elegant, fair legs alone was enough to ignite a fire within him...

In his haste earlier, he hadn't paid much attention to Ziye's body. Now, with things settled, suddenly seeing her small frame enveloped by his wide, loose shirt, he found himself growing somewhat unrestrained.

He leaned down, catching the scent of his own cologne mingling with her post-bath fragrance—a powerful stimulus to his nerves.

His shirt was long on her, extending down past her thighs. Looking down the length of her legs, he could see a pair of very small feet, pale, tiny, and tender, with toes that were round and lovely.

An Junlie felt bewitched, unable to look away.

Involuntarily, he tightened his grip on Ziye's slightly rough hand. Even with the roughness, it felt so small and white in his palm, the skin on the back of her hand as soft as silk.

He looked at Ziye’s sleeping face, then at their clasped hands, and suddenly understood: what he truly desired was only her, only her.

His gaze cleared instantly. He picked her up, placed her on the bed, leaned over, and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. "I love you, my darling." Then, he pulled the covers up for her and turned toward the bathroom.

In her sleep, whatever Ziye might have wanted, he knew one thing: he would not permit any one-sided action.

He took a cold shower, finally managing to quell some of the heat in his chest. He ate some of the barbecued meat the bodyguards had delivered, then sat on the sofa to regulate his mood. After washing up, as the night deepened, he finally walked back into the bathroom.

This suite was a double room; there was only one bed. He had nowhere else to sleep. If one were to insist there was another option, it was the nearly two-meter-long sofa outside, but An Junlie convinced himself that the sofa was for Zai Zai and Little Sprout, and he couldn't just appropriate it.

However, the moment An Junlie stepped back into the room, he regretted it. He had known about Ziye's poor sleeping posture for quite some time. But this time, she wasn't wearing pants—

Earlier, he had left a single wall lamp lit, casting a very dim, yellow glow. As a result, the moment he entered, he was confronted with a scene that made his blood surge.