No, that's not me! Si Mingjing calmed herself.
In her entire life, she had never taken these photos.
And the scenes in these photos were all different. Some were taken atop majestic mountain peaks, others on cruise ships where the sea met the sky. There were photos in boundless rapeseed flower fields, before ancient buildings steeped in history, amidst bustling food streets, and even in steamy hot spring pools. There were photos from spring, summer, autumn, and winter, spanning all seasons.
The only commonality in all the photos was the girl in them: she was always standing on Mo Yinhe's shoulders, looking imposing, her small head pressed intimately against his handsome face. So sweet it was to die for.
Si Mingjing's eyes were misted from the "poisoning." Her little paws clutched the pillow, half of her small body snuggled against it. After thinking for a moment, I've only been on Earth for a week; it's impossible for me to have taken these photos with Mo Yinhe.
