Maybe it was the right angle. In the photo, Tong Ran's lips were slightly curved upward. She squinted her eyes, and in the moment of raising her hand, a faint dimple was visible.
Mo Nanjue rubbed his index finger across the phone screen, his lips lightly curled up, his eyes softened.
Tong Ran finished drinking her milk, stood up with the glass and went inside the house.
Mo Nanjue's pupils shrank, and only when her figure disappeared did he avert his gaze, raising his hand to start the sports car.
The gas pedal hadn't yet been pressed down, when a sedan came from behind. Mo Nanjue glanced at it, and prepared to drive out of the villa, brushing past the sedan.
Mo Beiyan reached out and pressed the horn, making a beeping sound, then stuck his head out. "Where are you going?"
