Song Qiao was somewhat unaccustomed to Lu Jingchen's sudden gentle and agreeable manner. Although tears were still swirling in her eyes, they no longer continued to fall. Blinking, she buried her head in the pillow and spoke in a muffled voice, "Lu Jingchen, sometimes I really don't understand you?"
"You want to understand me?" A meaningful expression overflowed in Lu Jingchen's eyes as he looked at her with a deep gaze, his voice low and pleasant.
Looking at her pale face, almost indistinguishable from the white pillow, Lu Jingchen's fingers stiffened for a moment, then he lifted his hand and started playing with her hair. Almost imperceptibly, he leaned closer, the man slightly bent over to bring his handsome face close to hers, his warm breath fanning out on her face.
