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She turned her head in the forest, smiling at him, her milk-like skin shimmering in the morning dew and mist, distinctively captivating.
And he could only gaze at her foolishly, his usual confidence, arrogance, and nonchalance all rendered useless in her presence.
The only thing he could do was try his best to hide the bouquet of fresh flowers behind him.
But being as perceptive as she was, she had long noticed the flowers in his hand, seeing through the embarrassment on his face.
"No, Daniel," her cheeks turned slightly red, "you are the young master, if someone sees, I'll die of shame."
I'll die of shame...
Die of shame...
Shame...
Shame...
But he—increasingly embarrassed, at a complete loss—how could he tell her that he had painstakingly gathered these along Mirror River?
A chill swept over him.
Her voice arose again, yet it was as cold as frost:
[No, Daniel.]
