He poured her a glass of water and returned to the table to continue working.
Qiao Mo couldn't help but glance at him twice with her paintbrush in hand. The afternoon sun was warm and gentle, casting a shadow with his fine bangs on his forehead.
Flickering between light and dark, much like how he was hard to fathom.
Qiao Mo withdrew her gaze and remained silent.
She only felt that his presence still lingered around her.
She exhaled gently, calmed her mind, and picked up the pencil to continue sketching on the canvas.
Time passed by second by second, and the suit and figure under her pen gradually began to take shape.
She sat for two hours straight.
Qiao Mo's legs were a bit numb. She stood up to stretch for a while and then sat back down.
The draft on the canvas had already taken form. A tall man, outlined in a neat suit.
However, the man's facial features remained blank, yet to be filled in.
