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Summary
“Miaomiao.”
She was here for Fu Zhou’s book signing. Who would know her here?
Long hair, a flash of a gold ribbon, the curve of a hesitant smile. A name: Ziqi. This name, on the tip of her tongue when she heard her own being called. This name sounded like a promise, like something to be cherished.
She froze, raising her eyes to make contact with his. This man’s hair was short, wire glasses framed his eyes, and instead of an ancient costume, he wore jeans and a soft-looking, cream jacket.
Bookmarked by Pebble
13 Apr 2025