He fell into a gloomy mood.
He didn't continue to indulge in smoking, but leaned against the soft back of the chair, his eyes cast down, pinching a metal ornament on the table.
If he were to say whom he had felt the deepest emotions for over the past decades and who had the most significant influence on him, it would probably be his mother, occupying the largest portion.
Yao Qing came later; counting the past and the present, they had only been together for a year or two. His mother was different, many years, many events.
He hadn't been able to truly experience Yao Qing's feelings towards him. Subconsciously, he also felt that Yu Gusi was Yu Gusi, and he was himself. No matter what Yu Gusi did to Yao Huai, they were two separate individuals.
Yao Qing had said the same to him, so he naturally felt much less guilt.
But now, suddenly finding himself in the midst of it all, he finally understood.
Independent individuals, it sounded so light.
