Suddenly, a familiar scene flashed through his mind, causing the curve of his lips to freeze.
In that long-sealed memory in his heart, there was also a similar scene of half-dream, half-awake.
It was a white room, and the girl's figure also disappeared behind the doorframe like this.
Qin Feimo, coming back to his senses, frowned slightly, not understanding why he always mistook Feng Jinglei's back for Ma Qianqian's.
Retracting his gaze, deciding not to think about those old memories anymore, his eyes shifted and fell upon the bottle of bruise injury medicine on the coffee table.
Looking down at the time, it was already three in the afternoon.
Back in the bedroom, Feng Jinglei's heart had been unsettled for quite a while.
Seated on the sofa, she lowered her gaze, lost in thought, and caught a glimpse of the silk scarf draped around her chest.
