Wind and frost drift as they please—for whom does one remain obsessed?
Let the years pass as they will.
Gentle in the cup, three parts of the bright moon fall.
The mortal world is hard to see through; good and evil admit no verdict.
How does one set brush to paper for a thousand autumns?
Yao Ziyan softly hummed the lyrics she had heard from Luo Chuan. Luo Chuan had sung several songs, and this one was her favorite. Though there were parts she did not quite understand, she grasped the general meaning the lyrics wished to convey.
"Luo Chuan, do the lyrics tell a story?" Yao Ziyan lifted her foot and lightly kicked Luo Chuan's arm.
"Mm, a story called Bad People." Luo Chuan nodded and caught the foot that had kicked him. It was icy cool and felt rather nice to the touch, completely different from her calf.
Yao Ziyan's body immediately went stiff. Not only did her exquisite cheeks flush cherry-pink, even her delicate earlobes reddened slightly. She instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but failed to break free from Luo Chuan's palm.
She could clearly feel the warmth of Luo Chuan's hand against the sole of her foot, making her feel uncomfortable all over.
Fortunately, Luo Chuan quickly let go. Yao Ziyan swiftly drew her legs back and changed the way she curled up on the sofa, tucking her feet beneath herself and covering them with her skirt. She was as guarded as a cat with its fur standing on end—more or less exactly how Yao Ziyan looked in Luo Chuan's eyes right now.
Luo Chuan felt that the atmosphere was a little off. Yao Ziyan seemed genuinely angry. She pursed her lips and stared at him without saying a word. She truly had