135 makes him seem very pickled fish.

Just as she had adjusted her emotions and come out of the restroom, Yan Miao's hand was grabbed.

She was momentarily stunned, pulled forward a few steps, and met a pair of earnest puppy dog eyes.

Rong Yinghui's hair was naturally curly, slightly messy, his jawline pale and resolute, exuding a hint of youthful naivety, yet also carrying a sharpness.

There was a nervous tightness to his features, yet it provided a different kind of reassurance, especially when his distinctively jointed fingertips pressed against her shoulder.

There was a measure of seriousness, momentarily shedding his foolish nature, that surprisingly stirred her heart.

He looked down, slightly uneasy.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine—"

Yan Miao had not yet finished speaking when she noticed his expression stiffen slightly, and following his gaze downwards—

The temperature wasn't very cold.

She was wearing a two-piece outfit today.

Underneath was a white shirt, and she had a beige sweater on over it.