Although Xia Zhiqing was the most talented woman in Qingzhou, when it came to feelings, she was like a blank sheet of paper. She had never seen such a scene before, and that face of Wen Ning was so red it seemed you could squeeze water out of it, full of vibrant beauty, indescribably beautiful.
Feeling the heartbeat of the young man in her hand, Xia Zhiqing's heart began to beat faster too. Deep within her beautiful eyes, a hint of embarrassment and anger surged: "You... you stop talking."
"No, I have to say it. After I came back, I originally didn't want to see you, but I missed you like crazy, I couldn't eat or drink, and I couldn't help writing poems for you." Chen Mo grasped Xia Zhiqing's soft hands with one hand, gently stroking her face with his thumb, tenderly and with affection.
Xia Zhiqing extended her jade hand and gently pushed him away, but her heart was in turmoil, and she didn't dare to look up at the young man.
