I'm writing the truth in the back palace.

Late in the night, the sun shines, the goddess wears a long dress, the make-up looks cold, the system activates, instructs her to complete a series of intimate photos with the man, and she's coldly close, but suddenly pulls close in front of the camera, stretches her fingers and caresssss each other's clothes, and the atmosphere between the entanglements rises rapidly, and the two eyes are twirling, and the dangerous distance is shrinking in the dark corners of the world, and the goddess moves around the man's waist and limbs boldly with a thread of uncontrollableness, the sound of heart beats and fabric frictions, and the obscursive fragrance in the back of the system.