In the eyes of others, Tang Si might be talkative, aloof and proud.
But Song Yi felt that his heart was closed to everyone, like a desert, stretching endlessly, barren and desolate, not a blade of grass grows.
She wanted to slowly walk inside, and wherever she tread on his heart, flowers would bloom, their scent lingering forever, eternally fragrant.
The night wind was tightening, suddenly blowing the windows and doors, making them rattle, as if a heavy rain was about to fall.
The woman's palm was warm and soft, her gaze earnest and delicate, her intense emotions seemingly transmitted to him through her palm.
His heart began to be moved, gradually being dyed by something.
The woman before him was dazzlingly beautiful, boldly and brightly breaking into his world, like a fairy enchanting his thoughts, intertwining in his flesh and blood.
In the silent space, no one spoke, it was long and endless.
