On the spacious terrace, several strings of warmly glowing star lights hung, faintly illuminating Xiang Qichen's clear outline, while the bright lights in the corridor behind him elongated his shadow.
In this night, Zhou Huaiyi only saw him leisurely leaning against the door, his fluffy short hair falling across his eyebrows, and those eyes seemed to hide a galaxy, bright yet unfathomable.
Xiang Qichen gave an almost imperceptible upwards tilt of his mouth, scratched his ear with a half-smile, and said, "Your crying..." He paused, feigning contemplation for a second, "is quite attention-grabbing."
Zhou Huaiyi awkwardly didn't know where to place her hands, scratching her head with a dry laugh, and said, "…It's okay."
The air suddenly fell silent, although it was July, Zhou Huaiyi felt as if she was on an icy river, feeling extremely awkward.
