After writing the latest short piece of music notes on the beach, Leng Zimo looked up and saw a pair of bare feet.
They were small feet, slender and white, with long toes, and nails like pretty shells, glimmering softly in the night.
He looked up in surprise, his eyes filled with delight.
Luo Xiaoqian was looking at the beach, where there was a musical staff he had drawn, and two strings of completed music notes. Besides that, where she stepped, were two characters—Qianqian.
Not in English, but in Chinese.
Seeing those Chinese characters partly sunk in the sand, Luo Xiaoqian's lips curved up gently.
Didn't he say that he couldn't speak Chinese? How could he write it?!
"Sissi!" Leng Zimo came to his senses, quickly stood up, walked to her, and used his foot to cover those Chinese characters.
"Couldn't sleep." Luo Xiaoqian looked up at him, "I've been thinking about someone these days."
Leng Zimo raised an eyebrow, showing his doubt.
