C70 Picturesque
The man frowned slightly. The bamboo flute in his hand lifted up a length of vine and held it in front of his eyes. He was slightly angered, but also somewhat helpless.
Who knew that not only did the purple vine not restrain itself, it even advanced an inch. The vine that reached into the pants used the tender shoots to carefully tickle it, tightening and relaxing at times, going back and forth