Mo Yixuan was now sitting by the window in the restaurant. At the age of twenty-three, he was in the prime of his life, handsome and smart. His delicate face was just like the most perfect work in the hand of a sculptor. The long eyelashes cast a thick shadow under his eyes. The eyebrows flying into the sideburns presented a very nice shape. Under the high and straight nose was a thin mouth, pink, like the color of Begonia petals.
Suddenly, he put down the tableware in his hand, frowned slightly, and then turned to look at the other diners in the restaurant.
He felt as if someone was staring at him.
His eyesight of puzzle fell on two girls who were dining at a distance of seven to eight meters, naturally on He Xiyan.
He couldn't see the girl's face, but he seemed to have seen this figure somewhere.
It looked like the girl who drew on the playground.
Was that her?
