Xu Yi approached Wen Zhi with a drunken face, and with the help of the wine, he breathed the smell of red wine on Wen Zhi's face:
"What did you just say your name was? Mosquito? That's great, I like it."
Wen Zhi's usual eloquent skills disappeared, and his ears suddenly turned red.
The two people looked at each other in the cool breeze of late autumn, which was so hot that even the wind could not dissipate it.
Concept: A 22-year-old independent and strong second-generation rich man who makes his own money × a 19-year-old idol who is too confused