Lu Xiaoyou emerged from behind the cover, lifting her gaze to the fighter jets in the sky.
The sea breeze whipped around her, and her once-damp hair was nearly dry, with a few strands fluttering onto her pale face. Her eyes were filled with fleeting thoughts.
Feng Zheyu, this man is very peculiar.
He is like the snow on a mountaintop, untouched by any pollution. Unlike Long Xiliang, who lacks emotions, he shows no ordinary human joys, sorrows, or anger. He knows little of the noise and bustle of the mortal world.
He resembles a deity residing on a snowy mountain, having never stepped into the mundane world.
This man, he must not understand that snatching things from others is wrong, nor does he realize what is improper about ducking under a woman's skirt.
He has little understanding of worldly human relations, treating others coldly, because his upbringing, and the people he lived with, never taught him how to interact with others.
