She backed away.
Walking backward.
The long hair cascading down lifted by the night breeze, there was a feeling of lightness as if her entire being would sail with the wind.
Between the black curls, red lips, and rosy cheeks, an eager, brisk, and wilful smile emerged.
"Gong Yeyan—"
Like a mischievous breeze brushing past the face, pausing briefly on the lips, she then ran away like a child who flees after a prank, safely distancing before turning to make faces at the owner, she called out his name.
In Gong Yeyan's memory, it was the first time he heard his name being called out by her.
She always called him, "President Gong."
A formal and distant term, when spoken by her, carried a bit of... a playful taste.
Yet, it was nothing compared to the intense throbbing in his heart at this moment.
Gong Yeyan looked towards her.
His pupils were pitch-black, his gaze focused, the inkiness in his eyes stirred.
