Wang Hao reached out to hug the girl, feeling the warmth unique to humans, and even caught the scent of milk shower gel.
He also touched the silver-white necklace hanging on Xiaoyue's chest, with its diamond specks reflecting the bright sunlight, representing the stories that once happened.
He sighed helplessly, "It really is a dream!"
"I was wondering why I felt so cold now, as if I've lost a big part of my emotions."
"Even hugging a girl doesn't bring me any joy, and the girl doesn't react much either, just like a block of wood."
"If this were the real world, the vain Miss Han Xiaoyue would definitely tease me, 'Senior, you're so old and you still want a hug? If you're having a sister complex, why not go to the civil affairs bureau and get us married? After all, there's no blood relation, and after we're married, your property is mine—hmm, she would probably say something like that."
