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Ten years ago, he was dressed in white, with long black silky hair, and eyes full of soft light at all times, which were his unique symbols. Ten years later, a neat black suit, unruly short black hair, and cold and ruthless eyes at all times have become his unique trademark. Qingli knelt down beside him, rested her head gently on his thigh, and said softly: "Master, Ali is here to take you home." The man put his hand into Qingli's hair, and slowly followed the hair with gentle movements, as if he was afraid of breaking the porcelain doll. Say softly: "Okay." Moving up, those bloodthirsty eyes kept glancing at Qingli's neck, but were suppressed by their master. Shang Cao changed out of the high heels and skirts he had been wearing and put on flat bottoms and trousers. He also washed off the heavy makeup he had been wearing, revealing his delicate face. All this is just for standing next to him and saying to him: "Master, I don't ask for much, can you... Can you stay with me for a few more days?" "Okay." He would never refuse him, and a hint of pain flashed through Shang Cao's stubborn eyes. That's good, that's good, at least you can see the young master, right?