Half of Lin Wen's sleeping face was in shadow, making his whole face somewhat fragmented. However, his outline still has soft but distinct lines.
Just like before.
Even though the color of time has settled, the heart-pounding, slightly melancholy tenderness still gives her some kind of illusion of confusion and infatuation.
Xia Ruan felt a little swollen in his heart. She suddenly lost control, but put down the bag in her hand, walked over quietly, knelt down by the sofa, and looked at his face carefully.
About five seconds later, she raised her face slightly and kissed his lips.
The kiss was gentle and careful. Lin Wen almost woke up the moment her lips touched her. ——He is too familiar with this feeling.
No one he had ever kissed had lips as cold as hers. Even at this moment, even though she took the initiative, there was still no warmth on her lips.
But more of it is a sense of timidity. Gently, without force, like a temptation.
She tasted it briefly. I don't know why, maybe it was because her kiss was too timid and weak, or maybe her too fierce rejection just now left a shadow. At this moment, Lin Wen didn't have any thoughts in his heart. Instead, he only felt a faint sadness in his chest.
Conception: