Moist Confession Letter

"My confession letter seems to have spanned two centuries. Why did you only receive it now?" Jiang Ye replied aggrievedly and helplessly: "Then... Can you still be with me?" Pei Yu moved his fingers across the screen, his ears as red as the scorching sun: "My confession letter seems to have spanned two centuries, and you haven't received it yet." In summer in Haicheng, the wind is humid and the fog is humid. Even the beating of the heart is wrapped in a layer of cool moisture. The foggy and cool boy × the warm and sunny girl I really can't hate you. Me too.