“Who confesses in a bathhouse?”
Dong Yin cupped water in her hands and rubbed it over herself, making a show of bathing.
“There is. Me.”
Xie Mingjun said it with complete seriousness.
“Isn’t it romantic?”
She laughed. With her there, the ordinarily dull place suddenly felt completely different, almost a little charming.
Dong Yin grumbled, “People usually buy flowers, confess by a fountain, or arrange a heart on the ground and wait for the girl to walk into it before confessing.”
Xie Mingjun hissed softly.
“How corny. So that’s the kind of thing you like?”
Dong Yin felt uncomfortable...
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