A tall figure leaned lazily against the car door, a black helmet casually tucked under his arm, with the moonlight highlighting his impressive shoulder and neck lines.
Hearing the sound of the motorbike, he straightened up, revealing a sharply defined face—bronze skin, with features from brow bone to nose like sharply carved, yet his lips curved into a smile, wild and unrestrained.
It was Qi Xiao.
Xu Ying instinctively slowed down, stopping beside Qi Xiao.
The glaring headlights of the motorbike swept across the paper bag in his hand—a familiar aroma of fried chicken wafting in the night breeze, prompting the little foxes, previously curled up quietly against her chest, to perk up their ears and sniff eagerly, their soft little paws anxiously scrabbling at her collar trying to get out.
"Made specially with less oil and salt," Qi Xiao shook the paper bag, his deep voice as gentle as a desert night's breeze.
