Fu Xingzhou's life has been like a cold piece of paper that has not been tuned. He is aloof, pale, and arrogant, relying solely on his masochistic "sense of order" to hold on late at night.
Until Shen Yubai, the "hard carbon", barged into his territory.
Give him a 30,000 yuan watch, cook him a bowl of hot soup late at night, sit astride his trembling waist, and use your jasmine fingertips to cut off all his defenses one by one.
The sketch teacher said: Fu Xingzhou's talent is that he can draw accurately without "cutting".
But Shen Yubai whispered into his ear: "Brother, your life is too scattered. I have to 'cut' you into a new shape with my own hands."
The carbon strips fell off the paper, leaving traces in their bones.
In this art called redemption, who is whose draft, and who is whose final draft?
