Xie Ying'an's hand, resting on the sofa, slowly clenched into a fist, his gaze falling on Qingran's face.
The eighteen-year-old girl had features that were especially pleasant to look at; even her skin seemed delicate enough to break upon a gentle blow, as meticulous as solidified cream. His gaze drifted slightly downwards, landing on the glossy and rosy lips of the young girl, the skin below her eyelids seeming still to retain the softness of her lips...
His eyes darkened, and just as he was about to scoop her into his arms, the door of Li Qingmo's room suddenly swung open.
Li Qingmo, who had just woken up with a bird's nest of hair on his head, stepped out without glancing at the living room and with an air of indifference, he began descending the stairs.
His loud voice could be heard from upstairs: "Aunt Liu? Aunt Liu, I'm starving, is there any breakfast left?"
Qingran's mouth twitched slightly and she muttered, "My brother really is... um..."
