"Look at your pathetic self, you think I'll take you back? Am I really that cheap?" Liu Shuo snorted coldly, pulled up his pants, and threw down eight hundred yuan before leaving.
Lv Hui finally saw reality clearly; it was impossible for Liu Shuo to reconcile with her, and Li Qiang, who had nothing to his name, was struggling in life and had a bleak future ahead.
One evening, Li Qiang returned to his rented apartment from a part-time job, holding freshly bought milk tea, eager to share with Lv Hui how much he'd earned from his work.
But as he pushed the door open, he found the room surprisingly clean. A glance revealed that Lv Hui's previously scattered clothes on the bed were all gone.
On the table, there was only a letter left by Lv Hui.
The letter was straightforward, Lv Hui wrote:
I've left, don't look for me.
Thank you, Li Qiang.
You're a good person, but unfortunately, we're not suitable.
You're only 19 this year, and you still have many possibilities ahead.
