"Shaochen, I'm sorry... Shaochen... I... I..." She was momentarily incoherent, yet tremblingly clutched onto him tightly.
As if afraid that if he pulled his hand back, she would lose the entire world.
"I'm sorry..." Tears fell onto the back of his hand as she lowered her eyelids, her long lashes adorned with teardrops. She was born delicate and beautiful, coupled with a noble grace honed from a young age, making her entire face appear flawless without any imperfections.
That kind of face, that kind of expression — if it were one of those noble sons who had always adored her, they might have already been defeated, falling for her femininity.
But Shaochen just quietly looked at her, his gaze clear with a touch of gentleness, yet in that gaze, there seemed to be a window, one he could never open for anyone else but the woman in his heart.
But Nangong Zhongli would never understand, perhaps she would never understand.
