I Transmigrated into Love Apartment and Became Zhang Wei

Suddenly, she raised her head

and lifted her glass to Zhang Wei.

“The first toast is to you. When we say we’re not right for each other, it means you like a gentle breeze and wine, while I love the freedom of a fierce wind.” Dali downed her drink.

Zhang Wei smiled along and silently picked up his glass.

“The second toast is to you. In all these years, you’ve been so pure: lighter than water, clearer than wine.” That tender affection was sweeter than glutinous rice.

Dali blushed, puffed out her cheeks, then raised her glass again.

“The third toast is to you. At dusk, I stole a rib from you and brewed it into wine. A hundred years later, we’ll be drunk with life and love.”

“The fourth toast is to you. The evening breeze passed by the pottery jar and scattered the fragrance of wine. I remember every one of your faces.” Zhang Wei said this one.

Their gazes were full of affection, as if time itself had frozen.