Chapter 0

During the years of study, no one would associate Jiang Huai with Mingshuang. Mingshuang is the school flower, always at the center of the situation, rich and beautiful, and arrogant. Jiang Huai is always No. 1 in the affiliated high school. The boy’s family background is not good, but he is handsome and indifferent, and he treats others with restraint and alienation. Only Mingshuang knows what he looks like in private.

One summer night after the college entrance examination, under the camphor tree, carrying everyone behind his back, he lowered his eyebrows and trembled when he kissed her fingers, a strong obsession that could not be controlled.

When she was young, Jiang Huai was extremely indulgent to her, and he would always respond to her requests and the temperature of the drinking water would be adjusted in advance. Unfortunately, there was still no result, but she was young and energetic. After getting hooked, she got tired and breaking up with just one sentence, walked with unkindness and never looked back. What Mingshuang didn’t expect was that in a few years, she would bump into Jiang Huai again.

He is not what he used to be, and he is the center of this cutting-edge press conference. The man has matured a lot, and his noble temperament is even more cold and abstinent. She thought that Jiang Huai had forgotten her long ago, or hated her, and just thought it was a juvenile absurdity.

In Caijing magazine’s interview with Jiang Huai, the reporter was sighing at his overly smooth career territory, and asked him jokingly if he had asked for too much. When everyone thought he would not answer.

“Yes.” His eyes crossed the sea of people, and he saw a woman talking to his male partner in the distance. She was pulling up her long hair, bright and beautiful – the corners of her sweet lips were curved, and she smiled like that at others. Mingshuang came back from the table and was held down in the corridor. She was breathing hard, almost unbelievable, “Jiang Huai, are you crazy?”

Mingshuang never thought that one day, the pure and clean teenager in her memory would become like this. The man wiped the scar on the corner of his lips with his fingertips, “You taught it yourself, are you satisfied?” He smiled softly at her, his neckline loosened, and a beautiful face looked sullen and decadent, “I’ll play with you.”

“Do you still want it?”

The most intense love and hate in Jiang Huai’s life were only given to the same person. She taught him what love is, the godless god fell, he tasted the sweetest honey, and felt the most gouging pain. The slender school uniform skirt swayed through the whole summer and fell on the apex of my heart.