"Yicheng, what does this painting mean?" Cheng Hao looked at the painting again, the bright red sun, the vibrant grass, the big trees with tender sprouts—it all seemed quite ordinary.
The weather is so nice, the sunlight brilliant.
Cheng Hao thought about it for a long time but couldn't figure out what was romantic or joyous about it. If you ask him, it's not even close to giving flowers, jewelry, or a watch.
At the very least, watching a movie together would bring feelings closer much faster.
A painting that he couldn't understand; he didn't know what Yicheng found so pleasing about it.
"You wouldn't understand."
Pei Yicheng's voice was even gentler than usual as he carefully preserved the painting, his lips curling slightly as he said, "Haozi, help me find someone who can mount paintings and bring his tools."
"Yicheng, give me the painting; I'll find someone to mount it for you," Cheng Hao replied instinctively.