Shen Qianshu touched something ice-cold. Ye Ling pulled her hand and depicted the little fat heart on his wrist. Her fingers were long and smooth and were extremely good-looking. Her knuckles had deep dimples, which was very nice. Her fine and slender fingers lightly touched every knot of the bracelet. "This is the string of fate bracelet that you have weaved yourself. This is the stone you have polished yourself. Familiar?"
Somehow in the dream, she seemed to see the string of fate bracelet and little fat heart. They were on his wrist so securely.
He was sitting there and looking at her silently.
The coldness and aloofness was gone. He was like an oil painting, which was so perfect that he did not seem like a mortal.
Ye Ling's voice had a tinge of the moon's desolation in the late night. "As long as I am alive, it will definitely be on my hand."