"If it's because of my job, I told you, wait for me a few years, I'll transfer to another position—"
"How many years do I have in my youth?"
Qian turned her face away; she could face all kinds of eyes, even those of very powerful and influential people, she was never afraid.
But she was afraid of seeing his gaze.
To her, this gaze was too precious, too pure, filled with youthful love, without impurities.
Now she had to personally tear apart this gaze, which was too cruel to him, and to herself as well.
But this is life.
"Are you serious?" Yu Minglang took a step back, looking at the woman in front of him.
This woman, who had been with him for a few months, yet seemed like she had been living in his heart for many years.
"I am serious, I'm tired of endless waiting, I'm tired of becoming someone that's not me for you, I'm tired of—"
