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Then there were the two accidents in the restroom and on the plane. To be honest, aside from disliking the person Bo Yan, kissing him wasn’t so repulsive. At least he was handsome, and his physique wasn’t bad either. And he was proper with his hands and feet; he didn’t grope around carelessly.

His upper lip was slightly thin, and his lower lip was thick and soft. Such a lip shape wasn’t too cool or aloof, yet it didn’t appear too lustful. And because he had just taken a bath and brushed his teeth, there was also a minty fragrance.

Moreover, when Bo Yan got close, even though it was a kiss, his body was well-behaved, without taking the opportunity to press against her and rub around to take advantage.

They kissed during their relationship years ago, but at that time, both of them were still students, a bit awkward and green.

But now, she didn’t know how this guy had learned, yet she felt that, over the years, his kissing skills had improved by leaps and bounds.

Bo Yan didn’t dare linger too much, remembering Han Yifan’s words, to stop at the appropriate point; their relationship hadn’t developed to the point where they could hold hands intimately or kiss lightly. Taking a small advantage was acceptable, but going further would risk arousing her displeasure.

Although he felt a bit of pity in his heart, he reluctantly parted from her a bit.

She had just managed to regain her voice, when the first thing she said was, “You’re lying!”

She stated this with full confidence, and if it weren’t for the slight redness on her face from being kissed, looking like a moist and ripe fruit, her words might have held even more force.

Bo Yan looked at her huffy little face and wanted to kiss her again. He indeed lowered his head and pecked her, muttering from his throat with a hint of huskiness, “What have I lied to you about?”

Xia Siyu confidently declared, “Bo Yan, you haven’t been single these years, have you? You’re quite good at kissing, who taught you? Was it Xia Sicai? Or some other woman?”

She wasn’t jealous, nor was she particularly angry. After they broke up, who he wanted to find or how many he found was his freedom. She was an adult and wouldn’t quibble over such a thing. Even if they later got married, they both had agreed that they could freely seek their own happiness, so even if he had had other partners, she would not hold a grudge.

But lying is not good, right? Last time he clearly said no, but this time his kissing skills have suddenly soared. Don’t tell her it’s all practiced from his movies. She had seen his movies, even if she didn’t want to she had to: it was for research within the industry.

In three years he’d made five films, including “Storm,” making it six, but except for one artsy film where the entanglements between the characters were more intense (actually, the film was very stream-of-consciousness, with a fragmented style), there wasn’t actually much kissing.

The rest of them, with one focusing on pure romance, the kiss was simulated. Another was a war film with no romantic scenes at all.

Where had he practiced his kissing skills? He must have strayed on the outside, the liar.

“Do you want to know?” Bo Yan’s eyes grew deep.

“Not really. But I don’t like being deceived.” She didn’t care whether he found one woman or several, she just didn’t like being lied to.