The young man's movements with his head buried finally stopped, and a strand of long hair slid restlessly onto his face.
The mist of the hot milk soup was steaming and lingering, covering his face.
Suddenly, something seemed to have crashed into the soup, and ripples appeared on the water.
Bennett Fu's eyes turned cold.
Fuyuan Zhou lowered his head, and large drops of transparent liquid fell through the gaps in his long hair and hit the soup cup.
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