Fu Nancheng seemed a little drunk, kissing her lips wildly.
Qiao Mo placed her hand on his chest, turned her head trying to avoid him: "Fu Nancheng... you're drunk..."
His large hand, scorching hot, slid effortlessly into her blouse, landing on her lower back, feeling somewhat coarse compared to her delicate, snow-white skin.
"Fu Nancheng!" Qiao Mo forcefully grabbed his large hand to stop his actions.
"Xiao Mo..." He slowly opened his blurry eyes, looking absentmindedly at the woman in front of him.
The eyebrows and eyes are obviously identical... How could he be mistaken...
How could it be wrong?
Faced with his slightly saddened gaze, Qiao Mo also felt a pang of bitterness in her heart.
"Xiao Mo... you are her... you are her, aren't you..." He looked at her, speaking softly, with a hint of eager longing in his eyes, hoping to hear a definite answer from her mouth.
His tone was very light, but it felt like a heavy hammer striking her heart.
