A trace of loneliness flashed through Rong Qinglei's eyes.
Because of this identity, he had gained many things he never wanted, yet what he lost were always the things he cherished most.
He said softly, "Just because I am a prince of Beirong, do I not even have the right to like you?"
Yue Mingxuan helplessly rubbed his forehead.
That was not the point at all.
Talking to people from ancient times really felt like chickens talking to ducks.
Was it his way of speaking that had gotten worse?
After thinking for a moment, he decided to explain it in another way. "You are a prince of Beirong. Who you like is, of course, your freedom. But you have already affected my life."
Hearing a slight softening in Yue Mingxuan's tone, Rong Qinglei quickly explained in a hurry, "Mingxuan, I truly did not want to affect your life. That night, I really couldn't hold it in…"
He really could not accept it.
