Song Qinghong had regarded Shen Fuan as his male god for three years and always thought that his male god was a flower on a high mountain.
Until a teaching activity in a mountainous area, Shen Fu'an, with his unobstructed face and Northeastern accent, talked to Song Qinghong about eight bottles of liquor.
The dreams of youth were shattered.
Song Qinghong: I thought you were very cold...
Shen Fuan:? ? Come on, brother, come and drink, don't be stunned!
Art Student Shou × Mixed-blood Northeast Attack
Why is my boyfriend like this? ? ?
Intention: hope
