The bustling Paris, the mundane days, Lin Ying's once crystal-clear life, has become riddled with holes under the wash of reality.
At this moment, if someone were to look out from the towering buildings all around, they would see a very strange scene. Underneath the billboard, a short Eastern woman is hitting the billboard, her face full of fervor.
And another tall and thin figure, simply looks up at the billboard.
"Lin Ying, do you like romance? Not just between men and women is there talk of romance. When you stand under the T-stage lights, I will send you the most beautiful flowers, not impure pink roses, but a huge bouquet symbolizing success," Su Ziceng gestured vigorously, planning a romantic pact between women.
A simple thank you could not express Lin Ying's feelings at the time; all she could do was to embrace Su Ziceng with a warm hug as the French do. After lifting Su Ziceng up, Lin Ying mischievously spun around, scaring Su Ziceng into shrieking continuously.