If it is summer and she is in a good mood, she likes orange and bright yellow.
If it rains and she is in a hesitant mood, she wears light blue clothes.
Nastu pulled her slender waist back, making her stick tightly to him without leaving any gap.
"What color clothes do you like? For your Da Yanshi enthronement ceremony."
The big hand came along her waistline and gently covered her hand.
Su Yumo's hands become icy cold in winter, comparable to popsicles in the refrigerator in summer.
Her mother noticed this problem when she was a child and took her to see many doctors, both Western and Chinese medicine.
I took a lot of medicine but none of it worked. They said it was a disease I brought from the womb and it couldn't be cured.
Su Yumo thinks that icy hands are not a problem. Six out of ten girls he met growing up had this problem.
"Red, right?"
White against red, a magnificent sight.
"So what color are you wearing?"
"black."
The red and black inexplicably reminded her of a passionate French song.
Speaking of songs, Su Yumo suddenly missed the days when Nastu sang behind her, and missed the gentle feeling of the wind blowing across their cheeks.
At that time they were sitting on horseback, he had his arms around her waist, singing loudly and wildly, followed by a group of men.
Bass, mids, and highs, it's all there.
Nastu is not only good at beating people, but also very charming in singing.
I think if it were in modern times, it would also charm many girls.
Thinking of this, Su Yumo held his hand tightly.
That Si Tu belongs to her, Su Yumo.
Speaking of horses, she naturally remembered an agreement they had made when they first met.
"Did we make a bet before?"
"What bet?"
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