The person behind him asked in a low voice: "Master, shall we bring Miss Jiang over now?"
Bo Qingyu walked to the railing, his robe flapping in the sea breeze, his black hair disheveled, his face extremely captivating, handsome yet cold and wicked.
With narrowed eyes, he curled his lips.
And whistled in that direction.
"Baby, it's time to come here."
...
Jiang Ruan was considering how to deal with the current situation, looking at her beloved's silhouette in the distance, when she heard a licentious and devilish voice.
It cut through the night.
It gave off a damp darkness, even damp than the sea.
She froze for a moment, her heart pounding, as she turned to look in that direction.
At a distance, perhaps seven or eight meters away, a man rested his hands on the railing, leaning forward slightly with disarming charm and beautiful, devilish face, almost enough to snatch her soul away.
