Zheng Yu'an genuinely did not know. He subconsciously covered his neck, his expression under the streetlights both awkward and a little embarrassed.
Yan Shuwang quietly looked at him.
The atmosphere at this moment was difficult to describe. Perhaps it was because the streetlights were too gentle, or perhaps because there were no stars or moon in the sky. Yan Shuwang's gaze rarely contained so much. His eyelashes were long, casting crescent-shaped shadows. The temperature of his gaze was like the sunlight projected onto a lawn in the early morning, soft and lush.