One day a long time later, Mo Li held up a gossip magazine and asked someone: "Do you know the flower language of peach blossoms?"
"..." Someone glanced at the proud little woman next to him with disdain and continued to draw.
"She is a prisoner of love!" She stroked the hair of a proudly silent person, "It's so appropriate."
Someone pulled her paw away and held it, "Then do you know the flower language of jasmine?"
Mo Li thought for a moment: "Pure and chaste or something like that?"
"What else?"
"..." Is there any more? She bit her lip and started thinking hard.
Jiang Zichen smoothly pulled her to sit on his lap, wrapped his hands around her waist, and whispered in Mo Li's ear, who was still deep in thought: "You are my life."