This was all part of Meng Beiyan's plan.
He returned to China, giving up his promising career abroad.
Ying Qian never imagined that there could be such a foolish person in the world.
Meng Beiyan closed his eyes, his heart heavy, and said, "In your eyes, are you really so unworthy of being loved?"
She replied, "Yes, I've never felt that I should be someone who deserves to be loved."
“You’re wrong this time.” He took her hand in his and held it tightly in his palm. “You deserve to be loved. Everyone in the world has a reason to exist and a reason to be loved.”
"If you're not even willing to love yourself, then who do you expect to love you?" Meng Beiyan's eyes flickered. "Me?"
"Indeed, I will love you, I will always love you." His voice was hoarse, but especially earnest, sounding more like a vow than words of comfort.
Each word and phrase settles in the heart, sowing seeds that blossom into a profusion of flowers.
"I believe you, so please continue to love me, brother." Ying Qian's tears continued to fall, and she only took these words as polite words to comfort someone.
But I was definitely comforted.
She wasn't that sad, or perhaps she wasn't sad at all.
What saddened me was Meng Beiyan's concern.
A kind of kinship that comes from people who are not related by blood.
It's very strange.
—
Ying Qian didn't eat dinner. After taking a shower, she was about to go to bed, and Meng Beiyan didn't stop her.
He was resting recently, and when Ying Qian went to the bathroom in the early morning, she found that his light was still on.
The person had already stood in front of the door, but in the end, they walked away.
The person in the room must have sensed something, because looking at the uniform dresses in front of them, they smiled indulgently.
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