The man's cheeks were cold and hard, but then came warm, moist, squirming lips. Su Ziceng's eyes widened in shock, locking onto those eyes behind the glasses, a color undistinguishable between blue and black. She felt something soft and wet push into her mouth, driving deep, and her tongue instantly petrified—it was a fiery French kiss.
First, there was dead silence, followed by the whooping of the boys, then the twittering of the girls, and whatever came last, Su Ziceng couldn't remember. When she finally caught her breath, the dizzyingly numbing sensation on her lips reached the deepest recesses of her heart.
Fei Qing was dumbfounded, and so was Yan Wuxu, motionless. Deng Jiani was even angrier than if she'd been forcefully kissed by Pello herself—what did this mean? The most outstanding student in Pello's eyes wasn't her.
