“My soul tells me that it is born to love you.”
“Maybe no one is like you anymore, but I never know contentment.”
“”
The low, faint voice, mixed with dry hoarseness, was like a glass of drunken ouzo. Under the blurred and tranced dark light, Xie Yu wore a white fine linen shirt, and the gesture of playing the guitar was extremely beautiful.
He is actually handsome, with a convergent face and one foot on the chair. Sometimes he is a bit bad, and his affectionate appearance is hard to see. Now he is holding the guitar and singing, humming softly in his throat, a little carelessly presumptuous.
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