The red boots made a clicking sound on the ground, and a breeze stirred up from the soles, blowing away the dead leaves on the steps. Step by step, step by step, it seems that time has slowed down, the leaves are blowing down, and the hair is flying. The young man who is writing the ** turns his head slightly, and his eyes slowly look at the young man in red with the rotation of his body, and there is a trace of surprise in his eyes. The light-colored pupils were as cold as ice and as warm as the sun, amplifying the surprise several times, and the bright and clear eyes were touching. Lu Ling was stunned, the panic in his eyes pouring out unreservedly. When Xie Qingmei saw the young man's expression, she withdrew her eyes, picked up the brush and paper and turned around to leave. Seeing that he was about to leave, Lu Liao hurriedly rushed forward and grabbed his wrist, "Sir, wait a minute, can you tell me a few words?"
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
