Chapter 55

*Crush: A Glimpse of Dawnlight*
“We’ll see how you behave,” Qin Sang said, putting on airs. Her slender fingers slid down from his Adam’s apple, teasing at the yarn at his collar. “You’re not even ‘official’ yet and you’re already thinking about marriage. Classmate Xie, you really think far ahead.”
Xie Yuncheng wasn’t annoyed. “Then I’ll work hard to become official as soon as possible.”
“But right now, I think…” Qin Sang knew no one was home. Mischief rose in her. She leaned in. Her half-damp black hair spilled down; her eyes shimmered with moisture, and her lips—still swollen and faintly red from all that sucking and biting—looked especially tempting under the warm autumn sun. She somehow looked both clean and holy, yet bright and innocent like a siren.
She lifted her brows and breathed softly by his ear. “You could also consider… being my secret lover for a while.”
Smiling with curved brows and eyes—innocent and luminous—she shifted positions a little with deliberate malice, then said guilelessly, “Something’s poking. It’s kind of hard.”
Xie Yuncheng’s gaze deepened. His breathing quickened slightly, but he still restrained himself, even sounding a bit helpless. “Sang-sang. You’ll regret it.”
She nodded seriously. “If I don’t get to eat it, I definitely will.”
“Is it really not okay?” Qin Sang still found it a pity. A seventeen-year-old’s feelings didn’t mix in any利益, and had nothing to do with desire.
But a twenty-seven-year-old’s feelings—besides the sober weighing of pros and cons—had already been seized by desire whenever she lost control. She had to admit it: she’d coveted Xie Yuncheng for a long time.
What’s more, his concessions last night, and those devout little bites, had already awakened her deeper cravings.
She was eager to try. She had only ever heard about it and never truly seen it. He was so pure and restrained that she hadn’t even gotten a proper look—only a vague silhouette under dim light and shadow, arrogant and bold beneath the dark.
He was clearly already burning. She didn’t understand how he could still hold it down.
“Just let me look, okay?”
Qin Sang was genuinely curious. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Xie Yuncheng’s throat bobbed. Her naïve, clueless words sounded like simple curiosity—like a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl, newly sprouting feelings, possessed by a strong urge to explore unfamiliar anatomy. Curious, and childishly innocent.
“Okay.”
His voice was hoarse, his eyes washed in a deep, dark color.
“Eh?” Qin Sang was surprised. “So it’s pink. Can I say hello?”
She reached for him, but Xie Yuncheng stopped her. The veins at his temple stood out. “Not clean.”
Qin Sang looked disappointed. “Fine, I won’t touch it. But Little Classmate Xie looks so excited, saying hello to me. It’s like he’s very enthusiastic.”
“Do I really not need to respond?”
She bit her lip lightly, looking troubled.
Xie Yuncheng’s eyes were deep. He knew she was doing it on purpose, yet there was nothing he could do.
Qin Sang asked curiously, “Have you… never tried handling it yourself? Was last night your first time too?”
Xie Yuncheng gave a low “Mm.” His throat tightened, his reason edging toward collapse.
He was only a normal man. The stages a normal man goes through, he’d gone through too—morning erections and the surging hormones of adolescence, the occasional uncontrollable vitality. But that was just physiology.
Male anatomy made it unavoidable. And in a restless adolescence, as his mind flared with ideas, the same troubles existed. The body’s reactions couldn’t be prevented, but thoughts could be controlled, and emotions could be pressed down.
He rarely poured much feeling into these matters. If he simply ignored it, it would calm down on its own. He only needed time to cool down. So “taking care of it himself” basically never happened—if he didn’t care, it would pass. Why waste effort?
But last night was different. He’d hovered at the brink again and again. It wasn’t something he could set aside and simply cool down from. He’d waited outside for a long time, but even late autumn’s cold couldn’t press down that scorching fire. Not even cold water could extinguish it.
He had tried; he had fumbled. In the end, he surrendered to the body’s strange mysteries. Even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t restrain the full tide of his illicit thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” Qin Sang’s voice was soft at his ear. Yet her eyes were unbelievably clear and pure, as if she were simply watching him.
“You.”
His voice came out rough; he couldn’t stop it. His Adam’s apple rolled. “Sang-sang. Come here.”
Qin Sang leaned in, a little vexed. “I don’t have any other clothes. I mean—it feels too big. I can’t eat it; I’ll get indigestion. And it’s morning, I don’t want to be too full. So… you deal with the leftovers yourself, okay?”
“Mm.”
Xie Yuncheng’s gaze rose and fell. In the end, he only kissed her—fiercely—on those glossy, soft lips, exactly like he’d imagined the night before. He simply turned imagination into reality.
But in the end, the one who lit the fire became the innocent victim. She knelt on the carpet in front of the mirror, leaning over her knees to watch him—watching the flush creep over his ears, the darkness thicken and cloud in his eyes, sweat slowly bead at his temples, his throat bobbing as he let out a muffled, hoarse sound he couldn’t suppress, like a beast’s growl.
The only difference was that he kept looking at her. From time to time he couldn’t help kissing her—kissing her brows and eyes, holding her by the waist, turning slightly to kiss her.
He seemed even more shaken than last night. Qin Sang liked seeing him like this. Only at moments like these did she feel that he was, after all, just an ordinary person—capable of desire and emotion, no different from anyone else.
She liked even more that all his thoughts rose because of her—that because of her he couldn’t steady himself, couldn’t fill the hollow in him. And yes—she still liked kissing.
The late-autumn cold seemed to have passed, slowly stepping into the vitality of spring heat—chaotic, without any method, but fitting for the messy lives they lived.
Listening to the water running in the bathroom, Qin Sang was in an unusually good mood. Her lips were red; her eyes were red too—because he’d bitten her hard enough to make her lip hurt. In a hoarse voice, he’d said, “Punishment.”
Qin Sang touched the spot where the skin had broken, frowning faintly. Maybe she really had gone too far. Would he be angry? Probably not. After all, before he went in, he’d still helped her solve her “problem.”
Xie Yuncheng handed her his phone. She’d been out of contact all night; he was afraid Wen Shuyu would worry, so he had her call home.
Wen Shuyu asked where she was and when she’d left. Qin Sang only brushed it off vaguely. “Left in the morning. It was too early and I had to rush to my schedule, so I didn’t wake you. Mm—Wen-jie’s driver came to pick me up. I’ll stop here, Mom. I’ll call you again when I’m done.”
Wen Shuyu still wanted to ask more, but Qin Sang mumbled a couple more perfunctory lines and was about to hang up. Wen Shuyu sighed. “Alright. Be careful. I mean…”
“No matter when, you have to be careful—especially physically. You must be cautious.”
Qin Sang understood immediately. She tugged the corner of her mouth, mortified. “Mom, you…”
“I get it. I understand.” Wen Shuyu laughed. “I’m not some old fossil. And you’re grown—you can make your own choices. I have no意见 about what you choose, as long as you’re happy. I just want you to be careful. Always put your body first.”
Qin Sang swallowed. She had absolutely no face left. With drooping lashes, she muttered, “I know. I’ll be careful.”
Besides, Xie Yuncheng cared even more than she did—pure to an unbelievable degree. If she told anyone, no one would believe it. Xie Yuncheng was actually a pure-hearted ‘male college student’—no, a pure-hearted STEM guy.
After hanging up, Qin Sang accidentally saw his WeChat screen. It really was minimal: almost nothing there. Aside from a few work groups, there was almost nothing worth looking at.
No wonder he wasn’t worried about her seeing his phone. There really was nothing on it. Even his pinned chat was… himself.
Except for one cartoonish profile picture that looked like a girl’s. Even the messaging style looked like a girl’s.
On the chat list, she could see only one message—and it was unread, marked with a little red dot:
【Answer me.】
Qin Sang went into a full-on internal war. Reason told her this was Xie Yuncheng’s privacy and she shouldn’t pry. But emotion tore at her—if he was her boyfriend, even if only on “trial,” then as his girlfriend, didn’t she also have the right to look?
When Xie Yuncheng came out, what he saw was her biting her finger, her face twisted in纠结. “What’s wrong?”
Qin Sang jumped, quickly averted her eyes, and thrust the phone back at him. “Nothing. Someone’s looking for you. I didn’t read it.”
She rushed out the words, trying to cover it up—so fast her guilt was practically spilling over.
She tried to cover it up, blurting the words out so fast her guilt was practically spilling over.
“You can check for me.” Xie Yuncheng laughed lightly. “My hands are wet. It’s inconvenient.”
“You really want me to look?” Qin Sang felt a bit troubled. It wasn’t that she thought Xie Yuncheng would have some messy entanglements—his body’s reactions couldn’t lie, and it wasn’t in his nature. She was just worried that, if someone else had been pursuing him, it would feel wrong to read the sweet words meant for him. It wouldn’t be fair or respectful.
Even though they were boyfriend and girlfriend, they were still two independent people. And those who liked him weren’t in the wrong. Their feelings shouldn’t be turned into a joke just to entertain his current partner. That would be awful—like in adolescence, when you write a love letter to someone you like, only for them to toss it aside, or worse, pass it around so everyone can laugh at you.
That feeling wasn’t just about your affection being trampled; it was as if your dignity had been ground into the dirt, your thin layer of pride completely gone.
“It’s alright.” Xie Yuncheng seemed to see through her thoughts, knowing exactly what she was worrying about. “There’s nothing to hide on my phone. I don’t keep secrets from you. Being open with your partner is just the basic principle. Don’t worry—what you’re afraid of doesn’t exist.”
Qin Sang half-believed him. After hesitating for a moment, she still didn’t unlock it. “Forget it. Since you say there’s nothing, then there’s nothing. You’re the one who said we should be honest—so I should trust you.”
Xie Yuncheng raised a brow at her. “Really not looking?”
“Stop nagging, or I really will change my mind.” Qin Sang tossed the phone back to him.
He took it, glanced down at the screen, and didn’t try to hide it from her. Instead, he replied to a WeChat message right in front of her.
Qin Sang was a little curious, but too embarrassed to ask; otherwise she’d be doing exactly what she claimed she wouldn’t. But within seconds, a video call popped up.
She looked over at him and saw him accept it. Her brows creased slightly. A crisp young girl’s voice rang out from the other end:
“Little uncle, why did you take so long to reply to Huanhuan’s messages?”
Little uncle?
Qin Sang froze.
Xie Yuncheng’s voice was slightly rough. “I was busy.”
“Oh—little uncle, is it true you’re really dating someone now? Grandpa told me not to bother you, said you were on a date with your girlfriend. Is it true? Little uncle, can I meet your girlfriend?”
He lifted a brow. “Wait a second.”
He lowered the phone and looked at Qin Sang. “Sang-sang, is that okay?”
She was still stunned, and only managed a dazed nod.
Xie Yuncheng turned the camera toward her. On the screen appeared a little girl with braided pigtails, still very young. She held the phone with both hands, struggling to keep it steady. Her round, rosy features were adorable. The only heartbreaking part was the hospital gown she wore. She was clearly in a hospital ward, with a doctor talking in the background.
“Big sister, are you little uncle’s girlfriend? You’re so pretty!” the girl exclaimed with unfiltered admiration.
Qin Sang was a little embarrassed by the praise. “Hello, Huanhuan.”
“Big sister, will you come with little uncle to see Huanhuan next time?”
The girl smiled with curved brows and eyes. Qin Sang smiled gently back. “Mm. Next time I’ll come with your uncle to see you. So Huanhuan has to get better soon, okay?”
The child got so excited she started coughing again. The phone was quickly taken away. A woman’s worried face appeared. “Sorry, Huanhuan has to go for a checkup. You’re very welcome to visit with Xiaochen next time.”
A moment later, the video call ended. Qin Sang handed the phone back to Xie Yuncheng, frowning in concern. “Is that little girl… sick?”
“Yes.” He explained, “She’s my cousin’s daughter. She was born with a congenital heart defect—ventricular septal defect. She’s scheduled for an interventional procedure soon.”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t know she was your niece.”
She’d thought the profile picture looked cute, clearly something a girl would use. She just hadn’t expected it to belong to such a young child—much less one who was ill.
“It’s not your fault. What are you apologizing for?” Xie Yuncheng ruffled her hair. “Sang-sang, is your sense of guilt a little too strong? No one wanted Huanhuan to be sick. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Let’s go see her after the surgery,” Qin Sang said. “I already promised her. I shouldn’t go back on my word.”
“Okay.”
Then he said, “Sang-sang, come here for a second.”
She looked at him, puzzled. When she came closer, he naturally took her hand, lacing their fingers together. She watched as he lifted the phone to take a picture and typed something. Before long, he held it out for her to see.
“I think your lack of security is my fault too,” Xie Yuncheng said gently. “Would this help?”
He’d taken a photo of their linked hands—ten fingers intertwined—but her identity wasn’t visible. He hadn’t posted it yet; he was asking for her permission.
“I know your work makes it inconvenient to go public, and I don’t want you to worry. Sang-sang, can I announce that I’m taken? In a way you’re comfortable with.”
He had no intention of revealing who she was—only of letting the world know that he already had a girlfriend.
After thinking for a long moment, Qin Sang shook her head. “No.”
“Alright. I’ll delete it.”
“What I meant was—”
Qin Sang took his phone. “You can’t post that one. The angle is a disaster. Let me take it.”
She spent a while hunting for the right angle, only pressing the shutter when she was satisfied with the light and composition. Then she posted the photo.
The post had no caption—only that simple photo of two hands, fingers intertwined.
“If I can’t reveal who you are and have to wrong you by making you my ‘underground lover,’ would you mind?” she asked.
“Want the truth?” Xie Yuncheng thought for a moment. “Sang-sang, I really do want to be with you openly. If I can’t, then second-best is still being together at all. The most important thing is that we’re together—not what label we carry.”
Qin Sang couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss. “Why are you like this—now I feel bad bullying you. Classmate Xie, tell me the truth. Are you advancing by retreating—using self-sacrifice to make me go soft, so I won’t dare to start something I won’t finish with you?”
“So… did it work?” His eyes held nothing but her, his smile faint and soft.
Qin Sang thought seriously for a moment, then shook her head and rose on tiptoe to kiss him. “I don’t think the self-sacrifice is as effective as the beauty strategy. I like the way you looked just now. Next time… let’s go all the way, okay?”
His gaze darkened, and his thumb brushed over her soft lips. “You won’t regret it?”
“Regret what?” Qin Sang licked her lips, still unsated. “It’s not like I’m losing out.”
In looks, in figure, in brains—he didn’t fall short of anyone. And he had a strong sense of “service.” She was sure that even if they really did it, it wouldn’t be a bad experience. It was just that…
She bit her lip and smiled. “Next time… can I be on top?”
She still preferred holding the reins, and seeing him lose control because of her gave her a deep sense of accomplishment.
She just hadn’t expected that “next time” to be so far away. No sooner had they officially gotten together than they had to part.
Xie Yuncheng was only on a short break—he had to report back to the institute and finish the work waiting for him. Qin Sang was the same. Zhou Yihong’s film was in prep and about to start shooting. She had to join the crew, and once she did, she’d be on set for three months straight.
Before leaving Ningjiang, Qin Sang made sure to meet Xie Yuncheng’s grandparents. Grandpa Xie’s reaction was calm; he seemed to have already guessed their relationship. Grandma Xie, on the other hand, was far more enthusiastic than Qin Sang had expected.
She’d thought the night at her uncle’s welcome dinner, when Grandpa said Grandma was her fan, was just a polite excuse. She hadn’t realized it was true. The moment Grandma Xie saw her, she clutched Qin Sang’s hand and wouldn’t let go, even pulling out a few photos for her to sign like a trendy fangirl.
“All us old ladies are fans of yours,” Grandma Xie said. “We all went to see your last movie. Your Third-Grandaunt cried so much her glasses fogged up. Sang-sang, why do you look even thinner in person than on screen? Look at this little face—there’s hardly any meat on it. Don’t be like those actresses chasing that bony, skin-and-bones aesthetic. I think you look better with a bit more flesh—healthier. Being too thin isn’t good.”
The elders took quite a liking to Qin Sang. She called “Grandma” so sweetly, took photos, signed autographs without complaint, even chatted about gossip now and then. Grandma Xie was amazed. “Really? I said he looked listless. So there really was something going on.”
Qin Sang played along perfectly, nodding lightly. “Yes. He puts up a ‘pure boy’ persona in public, but he’s actually been secretly DM-ing his fans. He got caught red-handed. His agency paid a huge sum to buy those scandal photos back from the paparazzi, so they never came out.”
“Oh my, so people really aren’t always what they seem.” Grandma Xie was stunned. Somehow, the conversation swung back around to Xie Yuncheng. “That’s why my good grandson is the best—straight and solid. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you. I guarantee he won’t stray or get mixed up in any mess. If he bullies you one day, you come tell Grandma. I’ll break his legs.”
Qin Sang looped her arm through Grandma Xie’s and beamed. “Really? Then I’ll be counting on you to look after me.”
Xie Yuncheng glanced at her. She only met his gaze with a fearless lift of her brows. “What are you looking at? Didn’t you hear what Grandma said? If you ever dare bully me, she’ll break your legs.”
He chuckled and played along. “I wouldn’t dare. And I couldn’t bear to.”
No matter how unwilling they were, they had to separate. Qin Sang’s schedule had been set long ago. She should have returned to Jing City yesterday, but Song Peini’s sudden return had thrown everything off. She’d had to ask Wen-jie to postpone for a day, then go straight from Jing City to the capital by plane.
When it was time to leave, Grandma Xie held her hand tightly, reluctant to let go. “Sang-sang, you must come see Grandma again next time. Come back with Xiaochen. I’ll cook for you. You haven’t even tried my cooking yet.”
Qin Sang had never really experienced much of that older generation’s kind of care. Her grandparents on her mother’s side had always preferred Song Peini, who’d grown up by their side. As for her paternal grandparents—her grandmother had passed away early. She had met her grandfather once, but she had been so young that she barely remembered it. Later, he, too, died of lung cancer.
Before the end, Qin Dahai had taken her to see him one last time. The old man had been too ill to speak, barely able to recognize people. He’d simply held her hand and given her a longevity locket.
She still felt regret. Back then, she had been too young to understand life and death. She had watched her grandfather pass away with her own eyes, yet couldn’t grasp where the adults’ grief came from. It wasn’t until she herself experienced a loss that she finally understood how that pain carved itself into the heart.
Smiling gently, Qin Sang promised, “Grandma, once I finish filming, I’ll come back to see you.”
Xie Yuncheng drove her straight to Jing City Airport. Time was tight. When they passed Yan-yan’s noodle shop, Qin Sang asked him to stop. She got out and greeted Yan-yan. Yan-yan was pleasantly surprised to see her; when she heard Qin Sang was leaving, she was reluctant to part. “When I get married, Sang-sang… will you come?”
Yan-yan’s wedding would be at the end of the year. Qin Sang did the math—she might not make it. But she still promised, “I will. Even if I have to take leave, I’ll come. I have to see our Yan-yan get married with my own eyes.”
Yan-yan’s face flushed. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Xie Yuncheng and whispered, “Sang-sang… who is that?”
Qin Sang paused. She suddenly realized that she used to only describe her relationship with Xie Yuncheng as “classmates,” because that was their only link.
And now…
Qin Sang smiled openly and chose not to hide it from Yan-yan. “We’re dating.”
Their relationship had already crossed beyond that shallow connection.
She had dreamed of Xie Yuncheng a thousand, ten thousand times—yet never imagined it would one day become real.
But no dream had ever felt as complete and as real as this.
The person she had longed for day and night was right in front of her—within reach.
Yan-yan was shocked, and truly happy for her. The emotions changed too quickly; the information was too much. Her mind crashed. Only after a long while did she come back. “Then Sang-sang… when you come back next time, does that mean I might hear your good news too?”
“Good news?” Qin Sang understood what she meant. She only smiled and shook her head. “I haven’t thought that far. I’m taking it one step at a time. Yan-yan, marriage isn’t the finish line, and it isn’t a touchstone that tests love. I think… he and I still need time to磨合.”
Yan-yan understood. Before they separated, she hugged Qin Sang tightly, reluctant to let go. “Sang-sang, it’s okay. You’ll definitely get the happiness you want.”
Even though time was already tight, Qin Sang strangely slowed down. “Let’s walk a bit. I don’t know when I’ll come back next.”
Xie Yuncheng said, “Okay.”
Every brick and tile of Ningjiang was familiar to her. Even though it had developed rapidly in recent years and towers rose all around, the old town still looked much the same.
No—there was still something different.
Hand in hand, Qin Sang looked to her side. The man was tall and straight, his face still as clear and handsome as ever. The youthful spirit between his brows seemed never to have been worn away by time.
Just standing shoulder to shoulder—such a simple scene—was once a delusion she could only yearn for, never reach.
And now, the warmth in her palm, and that faint mint scent from his body, reminded her again and again: this wasn’t a dream. It was real.
Qin Sang looked away, her gaze slowly sweeping over the scenery around them. Then she spoke, softly:
“I grew up here. Yan-yan is two years younger than me, but she’s my best friend. Her dad and my dad were coworkers. He used to bring her to my house to play. Yan-yan’s hearing isn’t good, and she was often sick as a child. Her mother couldn’t bear the burden and, on a winter night, packed her bags, abandoned Yan-yan, and ran away.”
“Yan-yan was such a good kid when she was little. Her grandma wasn’t well, so after school every day she’d collect cardboard boxes to help with expenses. Sometimes her classmates would see her, and those kids would mock her for it. She got bullied all the time. I don’t think being poor is a sin. And being sick shouldn’t be a reason for people to laugh at you.”
So when they were little, Qin Sang had always been Yan-yan’s umbrella—protecting her. When Yan-yan went to collect cardboard and empty cans, Qin Sang went with her.
She never felt that earning your own living was shameful. When she earned her first money—even if it was only five yuan—she was still happy. That kind of spiritual joy and satisfaction far outweighed physical pleasure.
“You probably already know what happened later,” Qin Sang said, thinking that Xie Yuncheng must have heard long ago about everything that had happened to her family. “I grew up never worrying about food or clothes. I didn’t even know what hunger felt like. I never thought I’d become someone remarkable. Lying flat and getting by was always my life’s coordinate. But after that, I realized that living is actually so hard.”
She cared about Yan-yan not out of lofty pity or self-righteous sympathy. She just didn’t want Yan-yan to repeat her own path. Yan-yan’s life was much harder than hers. Studying was Yan-yan’s only way out. So Qin Sang worked desperately, climbed desperately—so the people she cared about could live a little better.
Because she had always carried guilt and debt toward Qin Dahai. She hadn’t even learned how to be filial, hadn’t had the chance to let him feel her care and concern—before she lost the chance to give anything at all.
Xie Yuncheng listened quietly. Only when she mentioned the past did his grip on her hand tighten. He could probably imagine what she had looked like as a child. When he’d sent her home, he had seen her childhood photos—a very pretty little girl, soft and sweet, with no aggression at all—yet at certain moments, she became someone else’s guardian.
She had always protected everything she cared about, in her own way.
He had always thought “heartache” was a narrow emotion, and to some extent a false one—because no one could completely empathize with another person’s life.
But in this moment, he felt it deeply: sometimes you can.
As long as that person matters enough—matters so much that she far outweighs your own existence—then you will sigh for her past, hurt for her suffering, and feel powerless, because it has already become “the past.” And that past, he hadn’t taken part in. He couldn’t even speak of having given anything.
“I’m telling you all this,” Qin Sang smiled, “not to make you blame yourself, and not to make you feel sad for me. I just want to tell you—this is the place where I lived. I spent a third of my time here. And my turning point happened here too.”
“I’m just an ordinary person from a small town. I’m not even a ‘small-town test-taking genius.’ Without my parents, I’m really nothing. I can’t compare to you or Cousin Peini. I’m just… very ordinary and vulgar.”
“But—”
“I like myself. At least, I really like who I am now. Before, because I was insecure and timid, there were so many things I didn’t dare fight for. But now… it feels like I’ve become a little braver than I used to be.”
Even a little bit was enough.
She wished she could go back to the summer when she was seventeen and tell that seventeen-year-old self: don’t be afraid. Just lift your head and keep walking. One day, you’ll get everything you want. It’s just that the road is rough, and it will cost you more time and energy than most people.
“After my father died, I didn’t dare come back here for a long time. Because everywhere in this place is full of memories.”
“But now I can face it calmly.”
Qin Sang paused. Her eyes were bright and clear. She smiled at him. “Classmate Xie, welcome to my world. My past is exactly as you see it—maybe barren and uninteresting, maybe nothing worth telling. But it’s still one of the parts of my life I can’t escape.”
“I keep forgetting to tell you—when you said that night you came to Ningjiang because you wanted to see me… I was actually very happy.”
Xie Yuncheng’s gaze was gentle, yet he couldn’t stop the pounding in his chest. He gave a helpless laugh, but the depths of his eyes were dark. “Sang-sang, when you’re like this… I won’t be able to bear letting you go.”