When we first met, he had messy but neat short hair.
Maybe it's the hot summer, maybe it's because of sex.
"What's your name?"
"How can a boy randomly ask a girl her name?"
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When they met again, Song Qianli was wearing a ponytail and carrying a schoolbag to get drunk in a bar, but she looked like an underage to anyone.
She supported her dizzy head, her eyes following his slender white hands with clear joints, watching him take a sip of whiskey until the Adam's apple rolled on his neck, just like the slow motion of a movie, every frame was full of temptation. With such temptation, I followed his words without thinking and said three words: "Uncle Three."
Buddha updates.
Intention: Live in the present and share the good times and bad times.