Lin Zihong pinched out a strand of his heart, stretched out his long fingers, and touched the end of Yang Yuteng's eyes, forming a small tear mole, which added a bit of charm to Yang Yuteng's fair face.
"This is your birthday gift, do you still like it?"
It seemed that the warmth of Lin Zihong's fingertips was still there on her cheeks. There was a touch of pink on her fair cheeks, but she was thinking in her heart, what kind of gift is this? Does this immortal have such a hobby? Do you like to scribble on other people's faces?
But the aura was clearly the same as the wrist rope on his wrist. For countless days and nights, it was this wrist rope that accompanied him through the pain of leaving his soul. Since he had been in love with this immortal for many years, he could only fulfill his wish.
He could only nod stiffly to express his liking.
Seeing Yang Yuteng's reluctant but unwilling expression, Lin Zihong chuckled, still a little guy who didn't mean what he said.
Intention: Go both ways