The moment Wen Sheng opened the closet door, a wedding gown of ivory white caught her eye.
The entire closet brimmed with white roses, which set off the purity and flawlessness of the wedding dress even more, and the scent of flowers that assailed her nostrils lent the moment an unrealistic, romantic feeling.
"Fu Yanlin, this—" Wen Sheng, overcome with excitement and disbelief, instinctively turned to look at the man on the sofa.
Unbeknownst to her, Fu Yanlin had walked up to Wen Sheng with a bouquet in hand, his gaze tender enough to melt all things in the world, "Mrs. Fu, if you change into the wedding dress and do your makeup now, you should still make it to the wedding in an hour and a half. Oh right, I forgot to tell you that it will just be us attending. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
There were no guests or complicated formalities; he only wanted to give her a simple and romantic Western wedding.
