The moonlight tonight was pale and tranquil.
Pei Zhen stepped out of the room, brought his painting tools, and, without a word, began to sketch the lines of Xu Si's figure on professional paper. It was only after quite some time that he lifted his head, propped up his chin, and gazed unwaveringly at the person before him.
Xu Si was leaning on the couch, her delicate ankles tinted with a touch of pink. Her gaze occasionally drifted to the newspapers on the table, and after a moment of thought, she turned her head.
Then, unexpectedly, their eyes met.
"..."
Before she had a chance to ask if he had finished the painting, Pei Zhen had already stepped away from the easel and spoke in a warm, gentle voice, "Turns out, I'm really not that good at painting."
Xu Si's interest was piqued.
