The sky darkened a bit, and the atmosphere for eating hotpot arrived.
The fragrant and spicy mist rose up under the lights, laughter and cheerful voices spilling out from the small balcony. There wasn't even a need to turn on the air conditioner; the breeze blowing off the lake made everything cool and pleasant.
From time to time, smoke drifted up from the weeds by the lakeside, and combined with the changing colors of the lights, it felt like a dream. Eating hotpot with such beautiful scenery couldn't be better.
In this earthly scene, even the usually clean and fresh Lin Lian was influenced, raising his glass and chatting with Cheng Zhirang beside him, beaming with smiles.
One was a fresh youth, the other a gentle man, their bone-china-like hands holding glasses of lime mint water, clinking together to form a perfect picture.
Mu Qiu was still seriously watching the pot.
