"Master likes me, Master doesn't like me, Master likes me..."
Pieces of white peony petals were gently torn off, and spread to other directions with the gentle breeze.
"Master..." The last petal finally floated into the distance. The young man paused and continued: "... Don't like me." He smiled in a low voice, "Is that true? Do you even think so?"
The delicate petals were fluttering gently in the wind, leisurely facing the green shirt, with a touch of light red.
"Wrong, you missed this piece." A cold voice suddenly appeared in front of him. The young man raised his head in surprise and shame, but suddenly felt a cold feeling on his lips, and the piece of white peony fell gently between his lips.
The young man was stunned for a moment, then smiled slowly, took the piece of white peony root that had been wandering for a long time, and said with a mix of joy and sigh: "Master... Likes me."