A lifelong romance sparked by a single love poem.
Zhao Yuanxi had to admit that by then, she’d already fallen for Xiao Yeshu, that stinking fox who’d worn a handsome facade since childhood and knew how to use bewitching arts.
Xiao Yeshu would never admit that, despite being a peerless beauty adored by everyone, with butterflies fluttering and peach blossoms blooming around him even when his face was expressionless, he had searched high and low only to lose his sight and fall for that aloof, demure legitimate young lady surrounded by generations of the Zhao family. And once he fell, he fell hard.
At eight years old, Xiao Yeshu sensibly asked himself: If you happen to meet the right person at the right time, and that person just happens to confess to you, what are you waiting for?
Zhao Yuanxi spent a lifetime half believing and half doubting. More than once, she asked herself what was so great about Xiao Yeshu. Eventually, she came to a conclusion: perhaps there wasn’t another man in the world with more good points and fewer flaws than him.
Three thousand beauties fade to nothing; only Zhao’s beauty has entered my heart.
