"...What did you say?"
Yao Qing's originally imperceptibly wrinkled brows now twisted together, her eyes gradually congealing with an emotion that ordinary people couldn't fathom, feeling cold and heavy.
Wen Nianchu's eyes were gentle, as if he hadn't been affected in the least by Yao Qing's mood.
"You heard, and you understood. I reckon you've had this guess and prediction in your heart for a long time, you just don't dare to admit it nor do you want to admit it. My liking you isn't something that surprises you."
"What surprises me is what exactly you were thinking when you were with Ruan Qiu?"
"Of course, it was you."
With a bang, a sound like a muffled thunderclap exploded within the tranquil hospital room that had been filled only with the sound of conversation.
Yao Qing carelessly knocked over a vase on the table, the flowers in it were probably just brought in; the water still carried a fragrant scent.
