Conquering System: Harem With Infinite Rebirths-Chapter 210: Literary Man

Now that Anya had accepted his physical closeness, fondling her breasts was only a matter of time. Harry understood the principle that haste makes waste.

As he spoke, Harry naturally reached out, sliding his arm from under Anya's armpit toward the keyboard in front of her chest.

"This is your Editor's email… Just send the email directly to her…"

While speaking, Harry began typing on the keyboard.

This movement naturally pulled Anya even closer. Harry's cheek pressed against her temple, and as his fingers moved, their skin brushed lightly, sending a tingling wave of shy pleasure through Anya, who couldn't help but let out a soft, muffled moan: "Mmm~~~~"

Taking advantage of the motion, Harry subtly pressed his arms against either side of Anya's breasts, gently sandwiching her two plump, round orbs between them.

His thumbs, seemingly unintentionally, lightly grazed the soft, massive mounds. The firm yet yielding texture made Harry's thumbs bounce back slightly with each touch, as if her breasts were pushing back against him.

Whether it was psychological or because Anya's bra was too thin, even through her nightgown and bra, Harry could feel the softness and fullness of her breasts. Each light touch sent waves of pleasurable sensation through his fingers.

The faint, teasing contact on her sensitive chest made Anya tremble uncontrollably. She let out another soft whimper, her rapid breaths growing heavier and more dazed.

[Anya's current state: Nervous, excited, uncomfortable, dazed, weak, conflicted, resistant, shy, fearful, ashamed, wary]

Remembering his earlier lesson, the moment Harry noticed wariness in Anya's state, he immediately withdrew his advancing hands, pulling them back from her front and sitting naturally beside her, maintaining a safe distance.

"Alright, Anya, I've sent your novel to my editor friend via email. I'll message her to put in a good word, so there shouldn't be any issues."

Feeling Harry's sudden withdrawal, Anya—who had just begun to feel wary and resistant—was immediately struck by a sense of loss.

The intoxicating, tingling pleasure she had just experienced was unlike anything she had ever felt before, as if it had seeped deep into her bones, leaving her weak and trembling.

This left Anya—who knew full well how dangerous and shameful such close contact with Harry was—torn with inner conflict.

Stealing a glance at Harry, she saw him typing on his phone with a serious, composed expression. Instantly, she felt a little relieved, scolding herself inwardly: I'm such a petty overthinker… Harry wasn't doing anything wrong just now… He was just helping me submit my work… He wasn't thinking anything of it… Yet I… I imagined so much… How embarrassing… Ugh… So shameful…

Harry's well-timed restraint and his convincingly serious demeanor quickly dispelled Anya's wariness and fear.

"Okay, Anya, I've already talked to them, but they still have to go through a process, so I guess I can't give you a reply until tomorrow or the day after tomorrow."

Harry stood up with a smile and said to Anya caringly, "The matter has been settled, and it's almost time for me to leave..."

Hearing that Harry was leaving, Anya couldn't help feeling a little lonely and empty. She stood up from the bed and said to him shyly, "Brother Harry... it's still early... it's rare for you to come to my house... you came all the way to help me... and you're leaving without even having a cup of tea... I... how can I feel embarrassed... Brother Harry, please sit... sit for a while before going back... I... I'll pour you a cup of tea..."

As she spoke, Anya hurriedly took a few quick steps to the water dispenser and poured tea for Harry. The snow-white, tender breast flesh that spilled from her chest trembled slightly with her movements.

"Oh, by the way, Anya, today is also my first time visiting your home, so I bought you some gifts. They are just a little token of my appreciation for you. They are all things I have collected over the years. Although they are not very valuable, they are very meaningful. Please don't despise them."

Harry walked to the cabinet at the door and reached out to pick up the handbag he had placed there when he entered.

"Ah... Brother Harry... no... no need... you are too polite... I... I don't feel comfortable..." Anya looked at Harry walking toward her with the handbag and waved her hands in panic to refuse.

"It's not something valuable, just a token of my appreciation." Harry opened his handbag with a smile, took out several 10-dollar items he had bought at a small market, and placed them on Anya's computer desk.

"Hmm? This... this is..." Anya, who had been trying desperately to refuse, suddenly stared at Harry's unique gifts curiously. She picked up an empty perfume bottle and asked in a cute voice, "Brother Harry... what is this?"

Harry smiled faintly and glanced at her. Anya probably never expected that he would give her such cheap things. Moreover, these gifts looked strange, as if they were just random items collected from a thrift shop. This immediately piqued her curiosity—she had assumed Harry would give her something expensive.

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"Oh, this is Maple Bridge Dew." Harry took the perfume bottle from Anya's hand, looking at the empty container with a helpless expression.

"Maple Bridge... dew?" Anya blinked in even greater confusion, staring at the empty ordinary perfume bottle. "This... why is this empty?"

Seeing Anya blinking her cute eyes in bewilderment, Harry sneered inwardly.

Why is it empty? It's good that it's empty! Little fool, don't you have a literary obsession? Don't you love art? Well, today I'll give you the most artistic experience of your life! Today, I'll be more pretentious than you, you artsy girl!

"Ahem..." Harry coughed lightly, put the perfume bottle away, and then pretended to be mysterious, hands behind his back, sighing dramatically.

"This is the dew I collected at Maple Bridge when I was in college. It's a pity that the dew there is too precious. I only managed to gather a few drops back then, and now it's all dried up."

"But every time I see this bottle, I can still feel its presence. Maple Bridge Dew—it has been preserved in my memory and imagination..."

"The moon sinks, wolves howl, and frost glistens over the land. The river oaks and lantern-lit docks stand watch over my restless dreams. Beyond the town of Ashford, the chapel bell tolls for the midnight traveler..."

"So that's how it is!!" Anya looked at Harry, hands behind his back, his face full of wistful sorrow, utterly enchanted. After hearing his words, she nodded with deep feeling.

"Brother Harry, after listening to you, I feel like I can almost taste the crisp autumn air myself... The moon sinks, wolves howl, and frost glistens over the land. The river oaks and lantern-lit docks stand watch over my restless dreams. Beyond the town of Ashford, the chapel bell tolls for the midnight traveler..."

After reciting the poem with Harry, Anya closed her eyes, intoxicated, completely enchanted.

"Thank you, Brother Harry! Your gift is so precious! I'll keep it in my room from now on, so I can feel the beauty of Maple Bridge and the freshness of its dew every day!"

[Anya's intimacy with Harry +5 (85% intimacy)]

Anya took the initiative to step closer to Harry, linking her arm with his, smiling happily. Her eyes shone with admiration and emotion as she gazed at him.

Her action sent a shiver through Harry, nearly breaking his composure.

The soft, full press of her breasts against his arm as she leaned in reignited the desire he had been struggling to suppress.

"Gulp~~~" Harry swallowed hard, reminding himself that now was not the time. If he tried anything reckless now, all his efforts would be wasted!

"And this!" Harry steadied his wandering thoughts, stretched out his hand, and pulled Anya back toward the writing desk.

He picked up a small glass vial filled with golden grains, his expression wistful, and said with deep emotion, "This contains sand from the Oregon Trail… I've kept it for years. But now, I want you to have it."

"Sand from the Oregon Trail?" Anya's eyes sparkled with fascination as she blinked at him curiously.

"Yes, I gathered it myself when I traveled west to collect folk songs and learn about the old pioneer ways. Look at it—smooth and fine, worn down by the boots of travelers and the wheels of covered wagons..."

"With dreams of the frontier, I follow the echoes of hooves, where the prairie wind carries the whispers of those who came before. The sun sets over the open plains, the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer fading into the dusk, and the song of the wild still lingers on the horizon..." Of course, reciting a verse was a must.

With the blessing of the poem and Harry's evocative storytelling, this tiny vial of sand—purchased from the five-dollar souvenir rack at the local general store—suddenly shimmered with mystery, making Anya gaze at it in awe. When she looked at Harry, admiration filled her eyes, as if she had found a kindred soul. Anya, caught in the magic of the moment, responded with a verse of her own:

"The lantern light flickers in the rain, footsteps lost in the muddy path. A lone rider crosses the river ford, longing for the land he left behind. If only the borders were safe and strong, the trails would sing with laughter once more. But the dust rises, the wild geese fly, and the heart's journey never ends..."

[Anya's intimacy with you +5 (90% intimacy)]