Shen Tingwei's chest rose and fell slightly with his breathing, and he looked nervous as she waited for his response, and even the small mole on the tip of his ear became redder.

She was still holding the corner of Lian Jue's shirt tightly in his hand, not pinching it lightly, but holding it hard, as if he was afraid that he would shut him out.

She accidentally touched Lian Jue's flank with his fingertips that were very hot, like sparks bursting out of shyness, burning Lian Jue's skin and his throat. I don't know if it was Lian Jue's illusion. The sweet and sour wine smells stronger.

Lian Jue looked at Shen Tingwei's face and asked him in his low and magnetic voice, "Do you like Jasmine?"