Wen Jiaren's eyes met Mu Qian's, and the dark pupils before her were like the sea, deep and unfathomable.
His fingers were somewhat cold, and he was less than ten centimeters away from her. His warm breath sprayed on her face, and his deep, pleasant voice was full of allure. Those eyes, shimmering with light, seemed to seduce the soul, "Are you my woman now?"
Are you my woman now?
Is that so?
No, she wasn't, and he wasn't her man either.
Wen Jiaren's mind was clear. She didn't nod, nor did she respond to him.
She felt the hand on her chin suddenly tighten, and his deep voice rose again, changing the question, "Am I your man?"
Wen Jiaren still looked at him without responding, and her chin was pinched painfully.
Mu Qian's brows and eyes grew colder, and then he suddenly curled his thin red lips, "I don't mind doing something to remind you."
