He had a pair of captivating eyes, and his beauty did nothing to hide his cunning.
"So you do like me, then?" Xinsha leaned forward slightly, his eyes rippling with amusement. With the help of colored contacts, his pupils were like mirrors, reflecting a light that made one's heart tremble. He said, "A Jin, you actually like me."
Beneath his bright, noble exterior, tenderness was merely a product feature.
Leaning against Peng Jin's back, Xinsha slowly closed his eyes and murmured, "A Jin, I'm a liar. Everything I say is a lie. I'm really not a tender person. I just hope that someone in this world can show me the same tenderness, too."
Peng Jin laced his fingers with Xinsha's and spoke to him gently and slowly. "Xinsha, that's not true."
"You just use tenderness as armor to shield yourself from the world's cruelty."
He was gentle yet resolute, and it took all his strength to grasp the last treasure of his life.
Xinsha's wrist flicked as he opened his folding fan and began to wave it slowly.
His voice was cold and domineering, each word measured, unhurried.
He said, "You've got it wrong. A Jin is mine, mine alone."
