The man's gaze was too intense, making Lin Yixun feel nervous. She pressed her hand against the man's chest and said in a deep voice, "Leng Yixiu, you're drunk."
The man suddenly smiled at her, "No, I'm not drunk. If you don't believe me, smell."
Saying this, Leng Yixiu leaned closer to her, bringing his lips near her nose. His sudden approach threw Lin Yixun into a panic, and she instinctively pushed him away with force.
Logically, a drunk person's reaction should be slow, but even when drunk, Leng Yixiu's sensitivity was astonishing. Not only was he not pushed away, but he held Lin Yixun tightly, slightly leaning in, his thin lips seemingly instinctively finding hers.
The cold temperature pressed deeply against Lin Yixun's lips, dominating them. Gradually, the man seemed unsatisfied with just a light kiss and deepened it.
