She was happy for a moment.
At the time, I even thought how wonderful it would have been if the knife had been inserted into Qi Jingchen's heart...
Unfortunately, she never succeeded before she died.
At the other end of the corridor, the man carrying milk tea stared intently at the slender figure sitting quietly in a chair, her back slightly bent and her head drooping.
Seeing her dejected and sad appearance, my heart felt as if it were being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand.
She shouldn't be like this...
The most vivid memories I have of her are not from her childhood, but from when she was in college.
They went to the same city for university, but they weren't at the same school.
He met her through a friend's social media post.
A video of her cutting her birthday cake.
The person taking the photo said something, and she smiled sweetly at the camera—a smile that was pure and beautiful.
He clicked save as if by some strange impulse.
In his view, she should be like the one in the video, like the one he had seen in person—carefree, bright, and cheerful—not like she is now, full of worries and forcing a smile.
"Give."
Qin Yue was lost in her memories of the past when she heard someone speaking to her. She snapped out of her reverie and stared blankly at the milk tea that had suddenly appeared in front of her, her gaze following the distinct knuckles of the fingers upwards.
The tall, handsome man was taken aback when he saw her red-rimmed eyes.
Without a second thought, he crouched down to her eye level.
The warm milk tea was placed in her hands.
It seemed like a promise to her, yet also like a statement of fact:
"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll handle everything."
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