Under the dim streetlight, the night breeze carried the unique scent of youth from his body, brushing past her nose. She seemed to smell the faint scent of wormwood from the bus ride earlier.
Could it be the smell of that umbrella?
Jiang Shuyao blinked her watery eyes, lifted her head, and met Pei Yan's deep gaze before slowly revealing a delayed realization.
"So, the person who lent me the umbrella that day was you."
The girl sported an innocent expression that screamed 'don't hit me, I just found out,' effectively dispelling the sullen mood in Pei Yan's heart.
He raised his arm and fiercely ruffled her hair, "Being so slow, how will you ever get married?"
She: "…"
Stick to the point, no personal attacks, please.
Seeing her slightly annoyed look, Pei Yan chuckled and then intriguingly suggested, "If you really can't get married, just act cute for me every day, and if I'm in a good mood, who knows—"
"You should worry about yourself."