It seemed as if they were the only two people left in the world.
Ye Jinwen and Mo Nie, standing beside them, were just emotionless backdrop boards.
"What's the hurry? I'm not going anywhere." In the end, it was Xiao Qimo who broke the silence, reaching out to straighten her hair.
The girl did not speak, her gaze lowered, her head slightly tilted down.
The poem immediately came to Xiao Qimo's mind: That tenderness in her gentle bow, delicate as a lotus flower wavering in the cool breeze...
He pursed his lips, his brows deeply furrowed, and his throat was dry.
It was somewhat unbearable.
His hand slid down, the calloused fingertips gliding from the top of the girl's head to her cheek, tucking the hair behind her ear, revealing the tiny, enticing red mole.
He truly wanted to break this little rascal apart, crush her, and blend her into his very bones.
