Liang Chenchuan frowned as he looked at the girl bouncing and jumping around the room, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't dazzled.
He hadn't expected that thin, fragile-looking girl to dance so well.
Some people are just born dancers.
Cuiling was one of those people.
"Liang Chenchuan, do you think my dancing looks good or not?" Because the girl was drunk, she'd lost her usual timidity toward him and actually dared to call him by his name.
"Say something." Seeing him stay silent, Cuiling glared at him.
"It looks good." Liang Chenchuan frowned slightly as he spoke.
"Then am I pretty?" Cuiling's cheeks were red as she grinned foolishly. "Do I look good?"
"You look good." Liang Chenchuan nodded.
She really was very pretty, prettier than all those female soldiers from the art troupe he'd seen.
Eighteen—just like a flower in full bloom.
"Then why do you never look at me usually?" Cuiling muttered. "It's not like you're my real uncle anyway."
Liang Chenchuan's brows creased.
