Sisheng's composition in the photograph was still a mess.
It was a street, crowded with many people, a chaotic scene with everything imaginable.
However, with just a glance, Mo Shangjun ignored the composition, ignored the myriad pedestrians and objects, and her eyes fell upon the man who had turned back unexpectedly.
Wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a black coat, only half of his handsome profile visible. His sharp eyes concealed a readiness to strike, and his lips, perfectly curved, were slightly tense.
In the picture, clearly an easy-to-miss corner because of him standing there, it became incredibly eye-catching.
It should have been a very familiar face, yet at that moment, it appeared strangely foreign to her. Mo Shangjun thought hard for a moment, and then some memories dawned on her, but they quickly receded again.
