Mo Shiqian didn't utter a word, one hand tucked into his pocket, his deep black eyes watching her as she joyfully entertained herself like a little girl, always following half a meter behind her.
He lazily narrowed his eyes, "Do you like this place so much?"
She had been everywhere; was she behaving like it was her first time at the seaside?
Chi Huan turned her face to him and smiled, her eyes curving up, "I do like it."
She didn't particularly like this place; she had been to Lancheng before and visited many beaches, but never with the mood she had now.
She felt the wind was pleasant, everything was comfortable.
Mo Shiqian watched her, silent for a long time.
Why did he like this woman? In those five years in Paris, out of the more than a thousand, nearly two thousand days and nights, during the rare moments of leisure, he would ponder this question.
It was a pointless question, and there was no answer.
