Tang Die always felt that Mo Jiashuo had a pair of very deep eyes.
Deep and bottomless, like a black hole that can absorb everything, no one can see what he is thinking inside.
Since she was very, very young, she has always felt this way. When this person's gaze fell on her, there was no emotion, only the cold reflection of her face in his black pupils—just like now.
Tang Die smiled lightly, "Brother, are you drunk?"
Mo Jiashuo's deep eyes blinked lightly, his long and thick eyelashes like the wings of a butterfly, casting a hidden shadow around his eye corners. He released the hand resting on Tang Die's shoulder, then reached out to turn the doorknob of her bedroom door and walked in.
The faint smile on Tang Die's face stiffened slightly; honestly, she hadn't expected Mo Jiashuo to react like that.
After all these years, she still couldn't predict his actions, just like now, late at night he enters her bedroom, and she doesn't know what he really wants to do.
