In the autumn afternoon, the sky was clear for miles, and the warm sunlight fell upon Lu Xiaoyou's face.
Her skin was fair and delicate, without a visible pore in sight, while the shadows of her eyelashes lingered under her eyelids, the ends of the shadows revealing distinctly separate, slender lashes.
To prevent Long Xiliang from moving recklessly, Lu Xiaoyou wrapped one arm around his waist and placed one hand upon his chest.
Long Xiliang felt Lu Xiaoyou suppressing her own presence, and he too weakened his breath. Within less than half a minute, a variegated butterfly landed on Lu Xiaoyou's shoulder, paused for a moment, and then flew away.
Lu Xiaoyou's gaze, however, remained intently fixed on Long Yinghua and Bai Ling.
Bai Ling actually knew Long Yinghua, and they seemed quite familiar with each other.
But the distance was too far, and Lu Xiaoyou could not hear what they were discussing.
Whatever they were talking about, Bai Ling's brows began to frown.
