The man stared at Mu Qiao. Up close, her skin was smooth and supple, her features delicate and elegant. The past few years hadn’t left any mark on her face. Recalling his despicability when he first met her and his disdain in the latter days, Mo Han felt a tad thankful. Fortunately, I didn’t lose her. “She can’t see your beauty.” He ran his fingers between her smooth hair repeatedly.
Mu Qiao was torn between amusement and exasperation. “You mean, your mother thinks that I’m unsightly?”
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