Compared to Mu Shuoqian, Gu Qili's tennis skills are as distant as the Yangtze River, but her mood was splendid, and to her surprise, Gu Qili won the game.
Of course, she knew it was entirely because Mu Shuoqian was letting her win.
No matter how domineering a man is outside, or how much he cares about winning and losing, in front of the woman he likes, winning or losing suddenly becomes less important.
She sat on the ground, tired like a dog, but still raised her head to smile at him, her white teeth as neat as seashells.
Mu Shuoqian walked over, crouched down, and handed her the water.
Gu Qili took a sip and, noticing the sweat on his forehead, took her handkerchief to wipe it for him.
The auntie who had been watching them play from not far away was earnestly learning Mu Shuoqian's moves. Now, seeing the two of them so close and intimate, she couldn't help but sigh to her fellow tennis player, "These young people are crazy, you know. That young man is her second uncle."
