Last time, he secretly read half of it but didn't get to the drawings at the back.
Seeing the drawings, he suddenly remembered the girl sitting at that platform, head bowed, serious-faced, doodling in her notebook, unknowing of what she was sketching, then bending down to kiss it.
So, she was kissing him.
Fu Ying's face turned red, wishing she could just find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
It was too, too embarrassing.
Inside weren't just his portraits, but also all sorts of pretentious, melodramatic words.
Truly, social suicide.
Fu Ying hung her head low, biting her lips tightly, fingers twined together.
Each time she heard the flipping of pages, her heart would skip a beat.
Using the weak light from the desk lamp, Shen Liguang carefully looked through the drawings one by one.
Looking at them, he suddenly wanted to laugh, but also felt a pang of heartache.
But that confused little girl had a man hidden in her heart.
