Miss Hilveld turned back, the watery moonlight draping her cheeks, its edge glimmering as if feathered with fine down. Beneath her slender eyebrows, a flicker of starlight danced deep in her eyes, carrying a hint of mischief, a twinkle of shyness, and a touch of courage:
"How is it?"
Fang Hong's heart pounded, his mind became muddled as if he had lost control over himself, foolishly gazing at the other person. After a good while, he softly asked, "Hilveld...?"
But there was no further sound—
Hilveld bowed her head, gently lifting his hand, their palms softly meeting, fingers interlocking with his slender, snow-white fingertips.
