When Qin Wanwan first met Liang Yichen, the cold man with a Buddhist bead in his hand and downcast eyebrows suddenly crashed into her heart amidst the swaying shadows of the mottled trees in the thousand-year-old temple.
When we met again, it was at the funeral of the mistress of the Liang family, the top wealthy family in City A. The prayer beads at that time had long been replaced by a solemn black umbrella, and the thin and lingering mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River could not hide the gloomy and clammy sadness all over his body.
Liang Yichen raised his eyebrows and lowered his hands. After a few gunshots, he stared at Qin Wanwan with his gentle eyes and whispered bewitchingly: "Come here."
If we only meet you for the first time in my life, I will not meet you unless I meet Qingcheng. After a startling glance, the corners of my eyes and eyebrows are all about you.