"Why say that?"
Mo Chuxi stepped forward to stand in front of her.
His tall, elegant figure stood against the backdrop of the slowly descending sunset, his deep contours irresistibly alluring.
Yan Xinxin stared at him, momentarily entranced.
"It's not that I want to say this, but your appearance, Young Master Mo, tells me you have a story."
She spoke with a hint of jest.
"Although I don't have wine, you can still share yours."
"..."
Listening to Yan Xinxin's playful words, Mo Chuxi's expression remained cold and indifferent.
"Did you just wake up from a nightmare?"
He asked, his deep, fathomless gaze locking onto her crystal-clear eyes.
The relaxed smile on Yan Xinxin's face quickly faded.
"Was it that nightmare from five years ago?"
He continued to press her, soon noticing her delicate eyebrows knitting tightly.
Yan Xinxin turned her face slightly; fragmented and soft streaks of light illuminated her graceful profile.
