No Substitutes for the Bigshots' Dream Girl Anymore!-Chapter 78: The Peony Blossoms

She had thought there would be a fierce battle.

It was such a waste that she had dressed so beautifully for nothing.

So cold!

Arnold Simmons walked up to Hannah, his long peach blossom eyes quietly gazing at the tightly closed gate of the campus in front of them, deep and unreadable.

He inserted his hand into his pocket, clenched and then let go. Finally he extended it, feeling the cool night breeze.

He looked down to see the fluffy head beside him. In a moment, the darkness in his eyes seemed to recede slightly, "How come you didn’t wear something warmer when going out?"

Hannah gritted her teeth, so cold that her voice trembled, "Who would know that you would bring me to this godforsaken place in the middle of the night?"

Arnold Simmons found it amusing, as the girl now seemed a bit like a rabbit shivering in the cold wind, her soft fur ruffled by the gust.

"I attended high school here, like you, and used the backdoor too."

At night, the man’s voice seemed even lower, perfectly blended with the chill of the night wind, like a mountain breeze that made flowers tremble on their branches.

Hannah paused for a while, thinking that Arnold was reminiscing about the past. But when she looked up at his side profile, the aloofness in his eyes hadn’t faded. It wasn’t nostalgia; it was more of a detached coldness.

The next moment, a warm coat fell on her, driving away the chill of the night.

Only then did Hannah relax, putting on Arnold’s coat.

The coat was very big, barely covering her up to the middle of her thighs.

Hannah finally breathed a sigh of relief and wouldn’t mind hearing Arnold talk about his past.

The man leaned against the car, his long legs crossed, some of his messy black hair falling on his forehead, obscuring his sharp eyes, half-closing his eyes, the expression in his peach blossom eyes dim and unclear.

Hannah walked a few steps to the man’s side, folded her arms, her voice soft, "Is Mr. Simmons going to tell me a story?"

Arnold Simmons smiled lightly, quietly looking at the girl in front of him, and jokingly asked, "What do you want to hear?"

Hannah’s smile was full of charm, her voice flirtatious, her slender finger gently pressed against where the man’s heart was, "In the dark night, alone with a man...rather than listening to a story, I’d rather do something meaningful with Mr. Simmons."

Arnold Simmons caught Hannah’s mischievous hand, felt the coolness of her palm, didn’t let go, and chuckled softly, his voice slightly hoarse, "What do you call a meaningful thing."

The two were so close that they could almost feel each other’s warmth. The cold scent of tobacco and sweet floral fragrance intertwined, creating a romantic yet tantalizing atmosphere.

The smile in the girl’s eyes slowly bloomed, like a flower in the night, dyed a luscious red on her fair and lustrous skin. The contrast in colors was so intense that it scorched Arnold’s eyes.

He lifted his hand and lightly brushed the side of her mouth. The skin under his fingertips was smooth and soft as tofu, making it impossible for him to resist touching. He wiped away the hint of red from her lips, while the reserved depths of his eyes darkened.

It was as if he was weaving a large net, enclosing the person in front of him within it, dragging her slowly into his territory.

The girl just smiled, a sultry smile. Her cool fingertips gently rested on the back of his hand. Her lips parted slightly, softly uttering a seductive phrase, "Spring comes and flowers show their colors. The willow’s waist sways, the heart of flowers lightly plucked, the peony blooms with morning dew."