Shengfang stared at the person in front of him with wide eyes. Qinghua seemed to find this expression very interesting. He couldn't help but smile again, and then asked in a low voice: "What about you? What's your name?"
Being so close, you could vaguely smell the faint smell of rouge on the other party's body. Shenghua couldn't help but move, lowered his eyebrows and nodded: "Shengfang."
Is this love unwavering, or is it delusion that leads to disaster? A lantern is lit by fate? Or debt?