Luo Xiaoqian opened the photo album in her hand - the first page was his old poster.
"Do you still remember, this is the poster for your first album. I asked for it from the owner of the record store after I convinced you...and this, this is the photo you took when you won the award. It's a bit blurry.
Well, I took it from the TV using a photo album..."
Luo Xiaoqian flipped through the photo album in her hand page by page, as if counting her green years.
At that time, she was burdened with too much suffering, and Leng Zimo and his music were her important spiritual pillars.
"At that time, I also fantasized about falling in love with you..." Luo Xiaoqian whispered, a little shy in her self-deprecation, "I also secretly kissed your photo. Counting it all, even my first kiss was yours."
…”
Leng Zimo hugged her and smiled, "I'm very lucky that I went to the hotel that day and didn't miss you."
Luo Xiaoqian's face heated up, "That's not what you said that night, you kept pulling my arm and asking me to get out!"
He turned his face and kissed her lips gently, "That's because I'm afraid I can't control myself. Who told you to be so seductive?"
Luo Xiaoqian stood up and put the album back on the bookshelf. He stood up, hugged her waist from behind, leaned over and kissed the side of her face.
Turning her face, Luo Xiaoqian took the initiative to kiss him back.
Now, his real person is beside her, within reach. As long as she wants, she can go to his arms, kiss him, and do the most intimate things with him at any time.
Their lips and teeth connected, the kiss became more intense, and their breathing became rapid.
This woman is his poison, as long as he touches her, he can't help himself.
No matter it was from the beginning five years ago to now, they have been close to this point, and it is still the same.
He could never kiss this pair of lips enough.
This man will never have enough.
Originally, he planned to have sex with her again tomorrow night on the wedding night, but, as God testified, he couldn't bear it anymore after enduring it for so long.
"Xiao Qian..."
Kissing her earlobe, his big hands unceremoniously slipped into her nightgown.
Feeling his palm, her body trembled slightly, almost unable to stand, and she vaguely called his name.
Knowing that she was ready, Leng Zimo no longer hesitated.
In the small attic, the air seemed to become ambiguous and humid.
…
…
London, England.
Inside a gorgeous European-style mansion.
Jiao Yang was wearing a light-colored casual suit, and his handsome face was exposed from his long shawl hair, which was vaguely stained with anger.
"Look at yourselves, what have you been doing every day since I was born, either quarreling or having a cold war, and you want me to continue living like you?!"
On the sofa in front of him, two people were sitting.
One is a handsome-faced British man. This man is his father, the Duke of Kent. Sitting on the other end of the sofa is his mother, a former Chinese-American classical music talent and a famous queen, Jiao Yalin.
This time, it was because his mother called him that Jiao Yang hurried back from Beijing. But when he came back, he found out that it was just a trap and they just wanted to trick him back to the UK.
Jiao Yang is his father's only son and the only heir to the title. When he came back this time, the Duke wanted him to marry the girl they chose. How could Jiao Yang, who loved freedom, agree to such a thing.
