Song Huaizhi then added, "In addition, as I said, respecting the fate of others and setting aside any desire to help others are my principles of conduct."
"To give an example, if you had been unconscious at the time, I would have called the police without hesitation and taken you to the hospital. But you were conscious, and you could decide where you were going, so why should I impose my will on you?"
He spoke in a very serious tone, but Jiang Mian found it amusing: "Why do you talk like an old man? If you're going to be like this, do you expect me to divide up all the property with your wife before you get married? You won't take a penny more, but you'll have to give her back any less."
"You're overthinking it."
Hearing her laugh, Song Huaizhi's lips also curved into a smile: "I'm not that calculating. If I get married in the future, I do hope that my partner can be a little more materialistic."
"Why?"
Jiang Mian couldn't help but turn her head away.
“Youth is priceless. I’d rather she’s with me for my money,” Song Huaizhi said in a pleasant voice. “After all, everlasting love is rare, and there are countless examples of the seven-year itch. She can be after my money, my good looks, or even my family background, but she shouldn’t be after my kindness. If one day, the love between us is gone, then I will take back all the kindness I’ve shown her.”
Song Huaizhi turned to look at her: "Wouldn't that be too unfair to her?"
It may seem cold and ruthless, but upon closer examination, it makes perfect sense.
Many years later, Jiang Mian would still recall that conversation with Song Huaizhi in the car.
It was only at that time that she suddenly understood.
What Song Huaizhi taught her was not to distinguish between love and hate, but to build a strong inner self.
Time is merciless; it flies by, changing everyone's appearance and weakening even the strongest feelings.
But the one thing it couldn't overcome was that still vibrant and powerful heart beating within its chest.
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