After Qiao Mo turned her back to him, the room remained silent for a long time.
Just as she was about to turn back again, a cool large hand fell on her back, somewhat cold, the movement was light, yet it easily tightened every nerve in her body.
Fu Nancheng's gaze fell on her smooth, snow-white back, his fingertips moved upward bit by bit.
With his other hand, he swept aside a few strands of her loose hair, and finally, his fingertips and gaze landed about an inch below her left shoulder blade.
His fingers gently brushed over, his gaze somewhat dazed.
How could it be gone?
He clearly remembered that there was a pink petal-shaped birthmark here... how could it be gone...
The pressure at his fingertips increased slightly, his gaze fell to the right side.
Yet the woman's back was perfect like a piece of fine silk, perfectly without the slightest blemish, let alone that petal-shaped birthmark.
How could it be gone?
