The woman wore only a base sweater, her figure slender and fragile amid the cold wind, her long back, her hair like seaweed fluttering with the breeze, casting a beautiful silhouette in the dim light.
Until she completely vanished into the night.
Mo Shiqian's tall and slender silhouette was elongated by the brightly lit lamps, seeming even more silent and lonely on this virtually deserted night.
After what seemed like a long time, the man slowly bent down to pick up the clothes that had fallen to the ground, then turned and walked towards Gust, not too far away.
The injuries on his face had almost healed, and although there were still some light bruises, they were hard to make out in the dim light, his features still handsome, and his demeanor as indifferent as ever, as if expressionless, making it increasingly difficult to guess his emotions.
Her head had just hit the spot on his chest that had stopped aching a few days ago, and it began to throb faintly again.