Outside the shop, the street was lonely with only Ying Jing's figure remaining.
She happily waved her hand and ran to the glass window, her shadow stretched long by the streetlight.
Wen Fucheng, look here.
She mouthed silently.
I don't know if he noticed.
The temperature cooled at midnight, and a small breeze made her neck shiver for a moment.
A thin layer of mist covered the glass couch.
She gently scraped her finger over it, leaving a mark instantly visible.
Like a mischievous child, Ying Jing drew a cartoon face on the glass with a few strokes.
A handsome male manga face.
It happened to correspond to the seat Wen Fucheng was sitting in.
Focused on being playful, she didn't notice that the phone Wen Fucheng was holding to his ear was hers.
Next to the male head, she drew a female head, bent down, and wrote a sentence beneath.
Ying Jing loves Wen Fucheng the most.
And then added a little heart at the end.
