The skin on Mo Xiaobai's arm, though exposed to wind and rain, was not rough like most men’s; it remained soft. What surprised Moyao was that the skin felt almost scorching hot, muscles tense to the extreme, covered in sweat.,But now, he couldn’t dwell on it. His entire body relaxed as he lay comfortably under the hot water, letting it wash away something—something that needed to be taken away. With his eyes closed, he thought about his just-now depraved thoughts and wished to whip himself a hundred times.,Cold sweat slowly climbed up his spine; the red on his face vanished instantly, leaving a pale complexion hard to ignore.。