Qiulan said very euphemistically, but the people present who is not what the mind of the generation, immediately understand his implication——


    No one but Ling mo.


    Ye Zichen Leng Leng, eyes in a flash, he quickly laughed: "it doesn''t matter, since we are now officially in real life to know, the connection in the game also seems irrelevant."


    "We can still be good friends," Ye Zichen added immediately when he saw what Qiulan wanted to say, "just like before."


    Mentioning at the beginning, Qiulan can''t help but think of the time when she talked freely, and her eyebrows and eyes are softer, so she swallowed all the words she wanted to say.


    And Ling Mo, when hearing Qiu Lan''s words, also slightly a Zheng.


    After reaction, he immediately stares at Qiulan.


    The young man''s eye socket is slightly deep. When he looks at people closely, he feels very affectionate. At the moment, it seems that there is a little heat in her eyes, which makes Qiulan''s face hot.


    "Come with me." Ling Mo pulls Qiu LAN and turns to go, leaving a room full of people looking at each other.


    Qiulan has no time to think about Lu Ye''s reaction. He is grabbed by Lingmo''s wrist and steps out of the door.


    Ling Mo''s legs are very long and his steps are big. Qiulan can''t keep up with him and gasps slightly.


    When they got to an open place, Ling Mo stopped.


    He turned around, looking at Qiulan, voice with a trace of strange: "Why me?"


    Qiulan is very intelligent, almost instantly reflects the meaning of Lingmo.


    It''s not just games, it''s also the heart beat that''s coming up. Why, is it him?


    After Ling Mo asked this sentence, he didn''t speak any more, just looked at Qiu LAN.


    Qiulan thought about it and said seriously: "there is no reason. If you have to find one, because you are Lingmo.


    "Because I like Lingmo," he said word by word


    Ling Mo''s pupils shrunk and his fingertips trembled: "do you know what you''re talking about?"


    "I know," Qiu LAN pursed her lips, "I''m very sober."


    "It doesn''t matter. I like you. It''s my business. You don''t have to care." Autumn haze down eyebrows, seems to be a little low.


    Ling Mo


    But how can we not care.


    The boy who has never been in touch with love, always calm face, finally showed a little helpless.


    "I..." he didn''t have anything, he saw the person in front of him, his shoulder trembled gently.


    "It doesn''t matter..." Qiulan bit her lower lip and muttered, tears in her eyes, as if the stars were suddenly broken.


    Ling Mo''s whole body was stiff. After a moment, he sighed helplessly: "always crying."


    His hand fell on the top of Qiulan''s head, gently kneaded along the smooth hair, with a kind of intimacy between his looks.


    Ling Mo''s hand glides down and becomes the action of holding Qiulan''s face.


    He and Qiulan looked at each other, wiped the tears from Qiulan''s eyes, and said softly, "little crying bag."


    Qiulan wants to retort, but she can''t say a word in a row except for a slight sob.


    "I didn''t like anyone," Ling Mo said, "so I don''t know what it''s like to like."


    "But to me, you are different."


    He couldn''t tell the difference. He just felt that even if people came and went around, only the young man in front of him had light.


    Ling Mo''s original low voice, softened for a few minutes, became more attractive. It rubbed against Qiulan''s ear and brought a tiny current flowing through it.


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