Uchiha Puppet Master, Starting from One Piece.

This is a completely different dimension.

No matter how intimate we were before, it was always from the side, from the front, or from a certain fixed angle.

But now it's all-around, no-blind-spot contact.

Her knees were wrapped around his waist.

Her inner thigh was pressed against his outer thigh.

Her abdomen rested on the softest part of his abdomen.

Her chest was directly opposite his chest.

Her face was less than ten centimeters away from his.

This position allowed her entire body weight to fall on him, without the support of a chair or any shift in angle. Her complete, full adult female body, carrying all her body heat and weight, pressed down on him.

He could feel his heartbeat travel from his chest down to his abdomen, from his abdomen to his thighs, from his thighs to his calves, and finally even his toes were thumping in sync with his heartbeat.

Mirajane's face was redder than if it hadn't been illuminated by moonlight.

Her breathing became erratic, and her chest heaved much more dramatically than before. With each breath, she was closing the already compressed distance between their chests.

The moonlight shone from behind her, creating a silvery-white halo around her. Her hair, because of this posture, was completely draped down, falling on both sides of her shoulders like a silvery-white waterfall.

Bai Yu heard every word Mirajane said clearly.

Then his hand slid from the back of her neck down her back, down her spine, past the clasp of her bra, past the subtle indentation above her lower back, and finally stopped at…

His fingers lingered there for a long time.

Mirajane's breathing changed from rapid to long and even, and then it became a trembling sound, as if she was enduring something.

But her hand did not stop her.

Her body showed no signs of rejection.

Quite the opposite.

She slightly hunched her back.

That movement shifted her upper body's center of gravity, causing her chest to press more tightly against him, and allowing his fingers to reach places they couldn't reach before.

Bai Yu placed his palm on that spot.

It's not a cover.

It is a lift.

Mirajane sensed it.

Her body tensed abruptly the moment his palm touched hers, like a fully drawn bow, every muscle fiber stretched to its limit. Her head snapped back, her silver-white hair arcing through the air, revealing her complete, unobstructed neckline.

From the chin to the Adam's apple, from the Adam's apple to the collarbone, from the collarbone to the suprasternal notch, this line is so beautiful in the moonlight that it seems like something a human should not possess.

Bai Yu's gaze fell on that line.

Chapter 227 The Beauty of Women

Bai Yu awoke amidst a warm and fragrant world.

The process of consciousness emerging from the chaos was slow, as if something was dragging his nerves, preventing him from returning to reality too soon.

But on the boundary between sleep and wakefulness, the first sense to recover is not sight or hearing, but touch.

There was something warm against my chest.

The small, warm mass was curled up, its entire weight resting on the left side of his chest, rising and falling slightly with his breathing.

With each rise and fall, a soft, warm touch traveled from his chest to his heart, as if someone beside him had entrusted their entire weight to him.

Bai Yu did not open his eyes.

He wanted to linger in the darkness a little longer.

In this morning, before it has been tainted by sunlight and reality, a morning that belongs only to him and her, let's linger a few more seconds.

But Chenguang didn't care about any of that.

It squeezed in unceremoniously through the gaps in the awning, landing on his eyelids and turning the entire darkness orange-red.

Then there was the sound, the sound of water, the sound of the hull rubbing against the seawater, splashing, splashing, rhythmic, gentle.

Bai Yu finally opened his eyes.

The first thing that caught my eye wasn't the cabin, but a clump of silver-white hair.

Mirajah's hair spread out on his chest, as if someone had plucked a whole sliver of moonlight from the sky, crushed it, flattened it, and placed it on his chest.

His hair gleamed with a cold silver light in the morning sun, yet it also carried the warmth of his body; a balance was achieved between cold and warmth in his vision.

She was still asleep.

Or rather, she was pretending to be asleep.

The white feathers are indistinguishable.

But he could feel that the hands wrapped around his waist hadn't let go.

Her fingers were clasped together slightly below his lower back, not tightly, but if he tried to turn over, she would instinctively tighten her grip.

Bai Yu did not move.

He glanced down at her; Mirajane's face was buried in his chest, with only a small section of her nose and half an eyelash showing.

The morning light fell on her face, making her skin look translucent and thin, with the capillaries underneath faintly visible.

Her lips were still slightly parted, exactly the same curve she had left in the last moments of the night.

The blush on her face had mostly faded, leaving only a faint pink tinge on her cheeks, as if diluted by the morning dew.

Bai Yu stared at her for a while.

Then he moved his hand.

It wasn't intentional.

It really wasn't intentional.

But his right hand slid from her waist to her exposed back, his palm covering it, feeling the warmth of the area in the morning light.

It was a bit cooler than last night, probably because the night wind blew all night, or maybe because her body temperature naturally dropped while she was sleeping.

His finger drew a circle on that patch of skin.

It's so light that you wouldn't even notice it unless you were consciously trying to feel it.

But Mirajane's eyelashes trembled.

Bai Yu's fingers stopped.

She did not open her eyes.

But her fingers tightened a little around his waist.

Bai Yu understood.

His hand slowly moved up, and then his hand went over there.

He felt a sense of being enveloped.

Mirajane finally moved.

Her face lifted off his chest, but only slightly, just enough for her to rest her chin on Bai Yu's collarbone.

Her eyes were still closed, her eyelashes drooping, so beautiful it took your breath away.

"White Feather."

Mirajane's voice was the kind of hoarseness that comes with waking up, like silk that has been sanded, with roughness and smoothness coexisting in a contradictory way.

"Ah."

"morning."

"morning."

Then the two of them stopped talking.

The morning light moved slowly between them, from her hair to his shoulder, from his shoulder to their chests, and from their chests to their clasped hands.

With every inch the light moves, the temperature in the air rises by one degree, gradually squeezing out the last vestiges of the night's coolness.

It's unclear how much time passed; in that state, his perception of time had completely failed him, before Mirajane finally left him.

Her movements were slow.

First, she lifted his chin from his collarbone, then propped up her upper body, and then peeled herself off him.

This peeling process lasted a long time, because for every inch that was peeled away, another inch would be glued back on, as if resisting the separation.

Finally, she sat down beside him, leaning against the wooden planks of the cabin, her knees curled up, her arms wrapped around them, her face turned towards the gap in the awning, letting the morning light fall directly on her profile.

Bai Yu looked at her.

Her profile was exceptionally clear in the morning light; her forehead, nose, lips, and chin—every line was as clean as if drawn in a single stroke.

Her hair was even more disheveled from the commotion last night, with several strands of silvery-white hair slipping down from behind her ears and hanging on both sides of her cheeks, swaying gently with the rhythm of her breathing.

Her neckline was slightly open.

It wasn't an extreme case; it's just that the top button had somehow come undone, revealing a small section of collarbone and a small triangular patch of skin below the neck.

There was a very faint red mark on that patch of skin. It wasn't a wound or a bruise; it was the kind of mark left by body temperature and pressure after a period of continuous contact.

Bai Yu knew where that red mark came from.

Last night, at some point he didn't know, his lips pressed against her there and didn't move all night, leaving this mark on her skin that belonged only to him.

He reached out and touched the red mark with his fingertips.

Mirajane shrugged, but didn't flinch.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"nothing."