Filled with sorrow and grief, his hands held her so tightly, as if unwilling to part from his own bones, wanting to embed her into them.
Zhong Qiaohui's eyes stalled for a moment, she could feel two wet things falling onto her shoulder, dripping into the pool within her heart.
Never had she imagined this scene, never imagined such a version of him. It made her mind chaotic, her heart a tangled mess.
She bit her lip hard, trying to clear her consciousness, and said: "You don't need to make excuses. The things you've done, I'll tell the elders about them—"
"Isn't it my belongings you're after?"
After hearing his words, Zhong Qiaohui suddenly realized he hadn't taken back the black velvet box in her hand.
Zhang Yingxi's curved fingers touched her face lightly, gently caressing: "Whatever you want, I'll give you, as long as you don't leave me."
Zhong Qiaohui sneered at him.
