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Then, what she saw were Bo Yan’s peach blossom eyes earnestly looking at her from beneath his bangs.

Bo Yan’s peach blossom eyes, when smiling, resembled a blossoming peach—both amorous and heartless. But when not smiling, as long as he was looking at you, you would feel his attention and affection. You’d get butterflies, become shy, and dare not look directly at him.

But in reality, he was just casually glancing your way, exhibiting nothing more than a rather polite attitude.

When he got serious, his eyes narrowed slightly, and an invisible pressure seemed to emanate from him, as if he were examining, exploring.

But at this very moment, she swore she saw in Bo Yan’s eyes the droopy gaze of a dog, like that of Wang Zisu—endearing, irresistibly tempting one to tease, making one want to dig out all the goodies for him.

At this very moment, she certainly didn’t dare to tease him, nor did she have any treats to offer him. But what Xia Siyu did was reach out her hand and tousle his hair.

Xia Siyu had always wanted to ruffle Bo Yan’s hair. Apart from pulling his hair during their fights, she sometimes felt the impulse to tousle it too. Unfortunately, he wasn’t Wang Zisu, not like Wang Zisu who was akin to a large dog summoned at will. If she ruffled Bo Yan’s hair, Bo Yan would ruffle hers back.

His hair strands were unlike Wang Zisu’s—fluffy, soft, and slightly wavy. Bo Yan’s hair was jet-black and somewhat stiff. If such hair were allowed to grow long and tied back neatly with a crown in ancient times, he would doubtlessly have looked very dashing and carefree. If allowed to flow loosely over a long robe, he wouldn’t even need to act; he would be the perfect embodiment of Wei and Jin dynasties’ elegance.

And at this moment, Bo Yan was actually rubbing his face against Xia Siyu’s palm. He wasn’t wearing makeup, and his skin was still very smooth and fine. The stubble on his cheeks and chin was a bit prickly but brought a peculiar sense of stimulation, like a puppy experiencing its first change of coat.

Having known him for so many years, Xia Siyu was seeing this look in Bo Yan’s eyes for the first time. Women are all empathetic and maternal; faced with cute animals, cute human infants, or adorably young brothers who are similar to them, they can’t help but feel affectionate.

Perhaps it was because of Bo Yan’s pitiable gaze, which held a hint of stubbornness, that she didn’t withdraw her hand. It wasn’t until Bo Yan put her on the desk, and after he had cleared away the surrounding books, that she suddenly realized in dismay: Damn it, she had been tricked by him again!

He’s not pitiable at all; he’s clearly a sly fox. Was he pretending on purpose, just waiting for her to walk right into his trap?

Bo Yan lowered his head and gently touched the corner of her lips. Strangely enough, although he was clearly ready to do that thing, there wasn’t a hint of the usual wolfish gleam in his expression; instead, it remained somewhat sorrowful.

Perhaps it was because of that look or maybe because she had just listened to his story, she found herself unable to muster much strength to resist, even though she knew this guy was up to no good.

Or perhaps it was because Bo Yan had blocked her escape route, she couldn’t run away.

But she still insisted on pushing his shoulder with one hand, somewhat anxious yet very firm, “No, we can’t, there’s no protection.”

She didn’t want to take pills; taking them is harmful to the body. Even she hadn’t noticed that her opposition now wasn’t about sending him away, it was merely because he hadn’t taken any precautions!